


The Stranger's Bride

by TheRedWulf



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, Faith of the Seven, Gods, Gothic, Hades and Persephone, Its been Fifteen Minutes Since I wrote stansa, Loss of Virginity, Religion, Slow Burn, Stranger!Stannis, Supernatural - Freeform, Victorian, War, help me, i guess, i have no idea what i am doing, plot holes, shit gets real, soul mates, stansa, vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-09 04:36:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20498933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedWulf/pseuds/TheRedWulf
Summary: AU - Victorian/Gods & Goddesses - In which The Stranger stops at nothing to keep his bride safe...Picsets are viewableHERE,HERE,HERE,HEREandHERE





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I finished a fic earlier today, why not start another one *nervous laughter* Help me...  
This was also intended to be a one shot, but I am impatient. Victorian/Gods & Goddess Stansa for you. I honestly have no idea where I am going with this, but I started writing and its just sort of...evolved. 
> 
> For the 300th time I don't consider myself a writer. This is unbeta'd so I apologize for any errors. :D :P
> 
> Thank you for reading!

She was on her knees, head bowed in prayer when the door to her chambers opened and she felt the second presence beside her. Opening her eyes she faced the Silent Sister and wordlessly stood, smoothing the skirt of her black dress as she followed the Sister down the halls. 

The great stone halls of Sanctuary had been her home all of her life. Or, at least, for as long as she could remember. The cold walls and even colder residents were the only souls she had known in this world. Sanctuary was a religious institution, one of the most devout in the Seven and known for its harsh, winter-bound climate and bare-bones conditions. 

Here, in the cold stones, she knew art and music as words only in her books of devotion, never having experienced them for herself. Love, devotion and marriage were also foreign words to her, none of her tutors bothering to explain the words to her. She had met only one man in her life, the Headmaster, and she did not know her family. She knew fear and she knew obedience, but she knew little else...

She was a girl without a home. A woman grown, nearly ten and eight years old, and she knew only that which they deigned to tell her. Read only that which they allowed her to.

She followed the Sister through the barren hallways, ignoring the chill that danced across her cheeks and neck. Ignoring things had become the most important part of her life. Ignoring the cold. Ignoring the hunger in her stomach. Ignoring the heavy words unspoken by those around her. Ignoring the aching burn in the back of her mind that yearned for _him_. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, doing her best to school her thoughts as she walked down the hall. One. Two. One. Two. She counted the echo of her boot heels on the stone floor as she walked. Forget him. Forget the man who comes to you in the night. Forget the unfamiliar words he speaks. One. Two. One. Two. 

She turned the corner and stepped into the dusty office, doing her best to keep her eyes on the floor in front of her as she stood before the Headmaster’s desk.

“Do you know why you’re here, Girl?” the cold voice of the Headmaster asked her. That voice, over the years, had become the cold sound of fear, of punishment and cruelty. Through her life she had done her best to appease this voice, only to meet with its wrath at every turn. She had never truly seen the voice’s owner, having only glimpsed him through the corner of her vision when she snuck a look from her downcast eyes. 

“To serve and glorify the Seven, Headmaster” she repeated dutifully. 

“Always proper” he moved closer, the swish of his robes sending fear through her. “I meant in my office today, not at this Sanctuary. Do you know why you are here?” he asked. 

“No, Headmaster” she replied, watching a ball of dust dance across the worn stones at his feet. 

“Can you name the Riders, girl?” he prompted. 

“Pestilence. War. Famine and Death, Headmaster” she replied, a shiver of fear racing over her spine at the last horseman’s name. 

“And the Seven?”

“Father. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Warrior. Smith. Stranger” she repeated back to him. 

“You have been taught well” he clicked his teeth. “What do you know about the Balance?” 

She frowned, not understanding his question, “Headmaster, I do not understand” she replied. 

“The Balance, Girl” he sighed. “The thin line that we all walk between this world and the world of the Gods.” 

“I know nothing, Headmaster,” she replied. 

“Come” he beckoned her to the left of his desk and she followed his voice to the mahogany side table. “Look at me, girl.” 

She paused, then raised her gaze to look upon him for the first time. He was her height, perhaps slightly shorter, with greying dark hair, dark eyes and well trimmed facial hair. She had not expected him to be so young, his voice was much older, calmer, than a man of middle age. He wore robes of all black, a vibrant red epaulet over each shoulder and a bird pin at the base of his throat. 

She almost cowered away from him, away from the color that he wore, knowing the warnings that had come with that color. She thought of her hair, the long curls covered and stifled by her black head covering, a covering kept in place lest she face severe punishment. 

“You look afraid” he stated. “Why?”

“The color, Headmaster” she swallowed a ball of fear, averting her gaze. 

“Red, girl” he corrected her. “The color is red. His color.”

“The Stranger’s color” she whispered. 

“Correct” he nodded. “Look at me” he commanded and she obeyed, as she had her entire life. “You do not have to fear it” he assured her but it did nothing to calm the chaos in her heart. She watched as he removed the lid from a box on the side table, the rich lustre of red fabric filling the insides. 

She stepped back, shaking her head, “No---”

“Girl” he chided, his voice suddenly cold and filled with anger. 

She wanted to run, hide and stay far away from this man and that fabric, but her feet seemed glued to the floor. Turning she saw the two Silent Sisters and the large Guardian at the door, blocking her exit. 

_No_ she nearly sobbed. 

She could have, perhaps, eluded the Sisters, but the Guardian would never let her pass. His impossibly large form nearly filled the doorway, his black armor and cloak giving him a sinister appearance. He had always been there, for as long as she could remember, the large angry Guardian, speaking in hushed tones and begging her to obey. 

“Please” she pleaded. 

“Look” the Headmaster spoke as he pulled the fabric--no, the dress from the box, the material flowing like blood over the edge of the table to the stone floor. The color was angry, the fabric ethereal as is moved. 

“Headmaster” she pleaded. 

“Tomorrow” he lay the dress over his arm, running his fingers over the fabric. “Tomorrow you will wear this---”

“No” she sobbed, her emotions spilling over until she could no longer resist the panic. “No!”

“Tomorrow, you _will_ wear this” he repeated, his eyes filled with fury. “You will wear your hair free, and you will obey.”

“Please” she looked to the door, weighing her options as he moved closer, the angry fabric nearly touching her simple black dress. 

“Girl” he glared. “Tomorrow you will be ten and eight, and tomorrow they _will_ come for you. A man will take you as his bride and you will obey him. You will choose him.” 

“Bride” she stumbled back, bumping into the candelabra behind her. The candles fell, as if in slow motion, flames dying as they clattered to the floor. She watched the wax pool and cool at her feet, wishing they would have ignited her dress and taken her from this world. 

“He will come” the Headmaster repeated. “And tomorrow, you will be a bride. Your husband will take you, ravage you and plant his seed inside of you, Girl.” 

She could hardly breathe as the room spun around her. She clutched her stomach as she turned away, stumbling only to find herself in the arms of the Guardian. She looked up into his scarred, angry visage, silently praying for help. 

She wanted to scream, she wanted to run. But she could not breathe. She could not see. She could not...she choked on a scream as the world around her went black. 

_ “You are afraid. Why?” his deep voice asked her and she turned, as if fighting through the weight of exhaustion to face him. His face, once cold, had become her only solace in this world._

_ “The Stranger is coming for me” she sobbed, reaching out to cling to his black coat. “I am so afraid.” _

_ “My darling” he soothed her, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close. “You should not be afraid. You’re safe, I promise you are safe.”_

_ “He is The Stranger” she cried out. “The tutors, the Headmaster, they said he burns everything in his path, that his touch turns flesh to rot and that he rapes….” she shook her head. “I am so afraid. Please!”_

_ She had begun to see this man, his tall, imposing form, many moons ago. At first, she had been afraid of his large form and sharp blue eyes, but soon she realized that he would never hurt her, that he was her safety. Her solace._

_ He wore all black, from coat to the polished boots on his feet, the only hint of color a golden pin over his heart, bearing a symbol she could not make out. His hair, perhaps once a deep black, was receding, liberally threaded with rich silver, a compliment to his sharp features. He was much older than her, she could easily see as much, but the beat of his heart against her palm matched her own pulse, her own heart. Ba-bum, ba-bum, his heart beat with hers._

_ “Ssh, my darling, do not be afraid” he smoothed her hair, for in her dreams her hair was unbound, free to her waist in thick ringlets. In her dreams, the color red could not hurt her, but she still lived in fear of The Stranger. “He would never hurt you.” _

_ “Help me, please, I beg you” she sobbed, looking to where her skin had turned white as it clutched his lapels. She noticed there, on her left hand was a pearl ring---no, it as not a pearl but a swirling, living mixture of silver and gold, set in a filigree bezel. A wedded ring ..._

_ She stumbled away from the dark man, eyes locked on her finger, “No” she sobbed, trying desperately to remove the ring but it would not budge. “No!” she looked to the man who looked stricken in his own right. “Help me! Please!”_

She was crying silently as she stood, naked, in the corner of her room. The Sisters had come at dawn, waking her and forcing her into a hot, scented bath where they scrubbed every intimate inch of her. 

They had cleaned her, oiled her, trimmed the hair at the apex of her thighs and exchanged dark glances with each other in silent communication. She had tried to ignore them, but the fear roiling in her stomach was enough to make her physically ill and soon she was rushing to her chamber pot, surrendering only the water she had before bed as she coughed into the porcelain. 

They had left her as she cleaned her mouth, but soon the Elder Sister returned. She wore white gloves and held the deep, angry red fabric in her hands, as if she were afraid to directly touch it. 

She watched the offending fabric as the Elder Sister lay it across her bed. Molten blood, sin...death, she looked away from it and focused on the wall. 

A hand grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to look back and she saw another sister held a corset, fiddling with the laces. 

“No” she protested. “No--” the door opened and the Guardian appeared, his massive frame unpausing at her nudity, but moved to hold her in place as the sister wrapped her in the corset and cinched it tight. “I hate you” she gasped as the air was forced from her body by the tightening of her laces. 

The Guardian’s grey eyes were filled with sadness as he spoke, “I know.” 

She was afforded no other undergarments but the corset, her body bare as the Elder Sister lifted the blood red gown with gloved hands. 

“No” she screamed, trying to move away from the Guardian but he held her firm. “No….no no” she whimpered as the gown was lowered over her head, the cool material ghosting over her nearly naked body as they tugged and pushed it into place. 

She kept her eyes tightly closed as they brushed and styled her hair, knowing that when she opened them she would see nothing but The Stranger’s color. Her heart was racing, so quickly that she feared she might faint, and her hands and knees shook in terror. 

Even with her eyes closed, she could tell that the gown showed more flesh than she had ever shown before. Though the sleeves were long, her neck, shoulders and decolletage were on display in the low cut fabric. She felt exposed, sinful and dirty. 

“Girl” the Guardian spoke firmly. “It’s time--”

“No” she whispered. 

“Save yourself the pain, Girl, choose The Stranger, trust me---” 

“No” her eyes snapped open and she shoved the Guardian with all of her might. She caught him off guard, his body stumbling back and she seized her chance, running from the room and down the stone hall. 

“Girl!” she heard his angry roar behind her but it only spurred her pace. "Choose The Stranger!"

She ran, winding and twisting her way through the maze of Sanctuary until she reached the gates. The thick, moss-covered wrought iron was locked, the padlock in place as she tried to pull it free. 

“No” she shook her head as she stumbled back, turning quickly and, picking up her skirts, she ran down the worn path to the forgotten temple of the Seven. The world around her was foggy, cast in grey as if Death itself had come to the earth, and she supposed in a way, it had. 

She ran until she reached the ancient stone temple and she collapsed, sobbing as she prayed to the Gods, to the Maiden, the Father, the Mother, the Crone, the Warrior, the Smith; all of them to save her from The Stranger.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picset is viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187455491311/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/)

He had been watching her for most of her life. From the time she was born to the time she was brought to Sanctuary, he watched her and protected her. The war with the Old Gods had pulled him away from her, his duty to the realm great and had kept him away for some time. For him it had passed in a flash, for her it had been nearly a decade. 

In the time away, she had grown from the curious, smiling girl of seven to a silent, fearful girl of seven and ten. It had angered him, to see the spirit in her so broken at the hands of those who were supposed to protect her. She was afraid of everything, uneducated on anything that her keepers had deemed unfit and he wanted nothing more than to decimate the entire Sanctuary. 

However, by the time he discovered their treachery, she was only a few moons from her majority, from the day he could take her as his own. He bided his time, choosing to appear to her in dreams, to comfort her and soothe her in any way he could, and he found that the ice around his long-dead heart had cracked beneath her touch. 

She was a singular being, created at the hands of The Father and The Mother to be his Balance, his consort and his bride. Her beauty was astounding, unmatched, afterall, shouldn’t _Life_ be the most beautiful creature in the realm.

Each of the Seven had a consort, a compliment and Balance. A being created to help them in their duties and to ensure the Balance of the realm. The Father and Mother had each other, but from them came all of the other deities. The Maiden, purity and innocence was balanced by Lust. The Crone and her foresight were balanced by the Past. The Warrior by Weakness and the Smith by Destruction. The Stranger, however, Death itself, was balanced by Life. 

Life was complicated, all of its nuances and intricacies making it the hardest being to create. Because of this, he had been without his consort, without his mate for many a millenia. While the others paired off and found their Balance, he walked through the fog of existence alone. 

That was, until that day eight and ten years ago, when The Father and The Mother told him that his bride had been conceived. Their most delicate and powerful creation to date had begun to grow and soon she would be The Stranger's Bride. 

He watched as she came into the world, born on the wrong side of the blanket to a Duchess and her paramour, rather than her husband. The babe was born, silent and wary, her head dusted with vibrant red hair and blue eyes ever watchful. Red, he had nearly smiled, his color. 

Though he was hidden from mortal view, he could have sworn her newborn eyes fixed on him as he stood near the door, watching him as he did her. She was perfection, but she was a bastard, and when she was old enough she was to be sent away. It was then he stepped in, taking her from the parents and entrusting her care to devoted followers of The Seven. 

His trust had been misplaced, he knew that now. He had trusted Sanctuary to care for her, to prepare her for what was to come but they had been corrupted by a child of Chaos, turned against him and instead of protecting her they created a woman afraid of him, and that would not stand. 

He had hoped they would have obeyed, at the very least out of fear of him, he grimaced as he walked to the mirror, buttoning his black waistcoat and adjusting his cravat. Of all the Gods, Old and New, he was the one that was vilified in all faiths, the one made to be the darkest and evilest of deities when, in truth, it was his duty but it was not him. 

Every faith, in all of time, had a name for him. Azrael. Lucifer. Thanatos. Hades. Pluto. Samael. Azazil. The Stranger. Death. He was the man in the blood red cloak that, scythe in hand, rode across the heavens and earth spreading death and finality. A living corpse, they depicted, riding a horse made of bones that spread rot and decay across the natural land. 

In reality, he was none of those things. He was a God, yes, but he was no corpse, no reaper and he did not ride a horse of bones. He had no scythe, only a flaming sword, much like the Archangels of other religious tales. He was created by The Father and The Mother as the darkness to the light in the realm, a necessity to keep the Balance moving in the universe. 

He did his duty, nothing more and nothing less, but as the carrier of judgement and finality, he was the God feared in all realms. He was the God that made all of the others seem ‘Good’. 

With a grimace he turned from the mirror, grabbing his cravat pin, belt and sword, he pulled them on with ease and then grabbed his cloak, buckling the fur over his shoulders with a sigh. It was time, he reminded himself. Striding from the room he conjured the portal and descended into her realm. 

The cold bit into his cheeks as soon as he became aware of his surroundings. Looking around he saw nothing but fog and ancient stone. Good, he noted, he was in the right place. A sob caught his attention, then a flash of red, _his red_, and he followed it down the stone staircase to the temple. 

When he reached her, she was prostrate before the altar of The Seven, sobs shaking her body in the eerie quiet of the morning. 

She wore the blood red gown he had sent to the Headmaster, the material a cloud around her as she lay upon the stone. He moved closer, drinking in the vibrant fire of her hair and the porcelain skin of her hands that lay outstretched to the altar. 

His footsteps were silent on the old stone as he moved to her side, kneeling smoothly, “My darling” he whispered, hoping that the sentiment from her dreams would reach through her grief. 

“Please” she whispered without moving. “Help me.” 

“My darling, look at me” he pleaded. Moments passed and she did not move, but then her head lifted and she turned to look at him. Her porcelain skin was red, blotchy from tears and her blue eyes were puffy and filled with fear. “My darling.” 

“He is coming” she whispered and he felt the weight of his deception cut through his heart. In her dream last night she had told him that The Stranger was coming, and he could not find the words to tell her that The Stranger was him. He had earned her trust over the last several months, and last night he had broken it. 

“Do not be afraid” he reached out to touch her cheek with his gloved hand and she sat up, looking into his eyes. 

“You’re real” she whispered, reaching out to touch the fur of his cloak. Her fingers moved across the bear hide and then moved it aside to look upon the golden pin on his cloak. It was his symbol, a scale holding a skull and human heart, weighing man against deed. “You…” she paled. 

“Sansa” he moved closer to her but she shrank back. 

“Sansa?” she frowned. 

“That is your name” he stated. “Have they not called you by your name?”

She shook her head, “No” she swallowed. “They call me ‘Girl’.” 

He clenched his jaw in anger, taking a few breaths before he spoke. “You are named ‘Sansa’, an ancient name that means ‘life’.”

“Sansa” she repeated, then shook her head and looked back to him. “You’re _Him_, aren’t you?”

“I am” he replied. “I am Stannis, an ancient name that means---”

“Death” she finished for him. “You lied to me…”

“Not until last night” he replied. “I did not know how to tell you---”

“You’re going to rape me!” she cried. “He told me you were to ravage me, to plant your seed in me!”

“Never!” he spat out. “I would never hurt you! There is another---”

“Please” she sobbed anew.

Furious, he ripped off his gloves and scooted toward her, grabbing her wrist to haul her against his chest, “Look at me” he demanded, cupping her cheek with his bare hand. She flinched away, eyes squeezed shut, expecting pain. When several seconds passed and nothing happened, her eyes slowly opened, locking on his. “There is no rot, no decay” he whispered. “I am a God, but I am not a monster.” 

“But...” she frowned, clearly confused. 

“I trusted them with your protection” he told her. “They have, instead, formed you to live in fear of me.”

“Why…”

“Because” he sighed, smoothing a thumb over her porcelain skin. “Because you are my Balance, and without you, I would destroy everything. Nothing in the heavens or on earth could stop me. Should you have fallen into the hands of another, the universe would not hold back its consequences.” 

“Balance” she repeated. “The Headmaster, he said something about Balance yesterday.”

“The Balance is the line between life and death in this world,” he replied. “Between mortal and immortal. I am the last of the Seven to find his…”

“Balance?”

“Soulmate” he said instead. 

“You are The Stranger” she searched his eyes, fear sending her heart racing. 

“The Stranger. Thanatos. Death. Azrael” he said softly. “I am burdened with a duty that I cannot escape.”

She stared at him for several minutes, looking from the grey of his hair, to the salt and pepper of his beard, and to the flaming heart on his cravat pin. Hesitantly, her fingers reached out to touch the pin, tracing over the scale in the center of the field of red. 

“Why did you leave me with them” she asked so softly that he barely heard her. 

“I could have taken you to the realm of the Seven with me from the moment you were born,” he explained. “But we fell into war with the Old Gods and I feared that they would take you, hurt you to spite me. If we had been bound, your death would mean my own and my death would mean yours. So I hid you, I protected you...or, I tried.”

She took a deep breath, “Have you ever raped a---”

“No” he shook his head emphatically. “I have not lain with a woman in a many millenia” he replied. “And I have never forced myself upon one.” 

She searched his eyes for several minutes before she reached out to touch the furrow in his brow, smoothing a slender finger over his skin. He did not move, he could barely breathe as she touched him, so instead he held her in his arms as she stroked the flesh of his face. 

Her wide blue eyes, so full of skittish wonder, watched him, cataloged every detail of his person as the sound of nature echoed around them. 

“You are Stannis” she said after a lengthy silence. 

“I am” he nodded. 

“And I am Sansa” she said. 

“Yes.”

“Death” she touched the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. “And Life.” 

“Yes.”

“I do not---”

“Girl!” male voices sounded on the path and she went positively rigid in his arms. 

“Headmaster” she whimpered. 

“Do you wish to be gone?” 

“What?”

“From here? Do you want to be gone?”

“I---yes” she nodded. 

He gave a nod, hauling her tightly into his arms and standing quickly, he opened the portal back to his realm and stepped through. 

“You told me that she would be mine, Headmaster Baelish” the eerily calm, deep voice spoke in the relative darkness of the Headmaster’s office. “That when presented with the choice, she would choose me over _Him_.” 

“I did everything you asked” he replied, standing quickly to defend himself. “I taught her all you asked. Every lesson, every lie---” 

“But in the end, she ran into his arms,” the voice said as the broad form emerged from the shadows. “And away from me.” 

He swallowed reflexively at the sight of the man, clad in all black, with a bleeding, angry red ‘x’ across his chestplate. “My Lord---”

“Do you know” he said calmly. “I crawled from The Seventh Hell, navigated through its barren waste into Chaos. I fought, bartered, lied and killed my way through Chaos and back to the Earthly plane. I was in Hell, because _He_ banished me there--for what? A harmless rebellion? Breaking guest right?” He shook his head. “I want her, Headmaster Baelish. I will have her, and I will take her as _He_ watches. This realm be damned. But I fear that I can no longer do that with your ‘help’.”

“My Lord, please---”


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picset is viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187455491311/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/)

Sansa woke to an unfamiliar bedroom, still clad in the blood red gown that she had been pushed into that morning. At least, she thought it was that morning, she had no idea how long she had been asleep. 

Carefully sitting up, she looked around the dark wood and red bedroom, the color still sending fear through her. The door was open and she pushed to her feet, moving toward it on unsteady legs. In the hall, she could see that the home was large and well-appointed. There was no raw stone but smooth walls and heavy wooden furniture. 

Bright light shone to her left and she followed it, marvelling at the gigantic chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceilings. Everything in the home was a mixture of dark wood and a vibrant red, bringing to mind memories of the man himself. 

The man---The Stranger had come for her. He hadn’t been what she had expected. While he was imposing, his features sharp, he was not cruel or violent. The resignation in his eyes when he spoke of his duty had pulled at her heart, the truth in his words making her wish she could banish the sorrow from his brow. 

Descending the stairs she followed the light until the sounds of voices reached her. She traced them to an open door, peeking inside to find The Stranger---Stannis, speaking with another grey-haired man. 

Gone was his sword and coat, the golden pin now on his black waistcoat. She had thought he was large in her dream, but he was the tallest man she had ever seen aside from the Guardian, his frame wide but lean and dangerous. Beside him she would only reach his chest, perhaps his shoulder at the most, but he seemed to tower over the grey-haired man.

“Sansa” his voice reached her and she looked into his eyes, finding him watching her. “You’re awake” he moved slowly through the library and to her side, extending his hand. She looked to the bare skin of his hand, hesitating only briefly before she raised her own to settle in his. He escorted her into the room where the other man stood. “Sansa, this is my sworn man, Davos Seaworth. Davos, this is Sansa” he said softly. 

“It is a great honor to meet you at last, My Lady” Davos bowed and Sansa could only nod. 

“Thank you--I,” she shook her head. “I am sorry, I am so overwhelmed. Where am I?” she asked Stannis. 

“My home” he replied. “Each of The Seven have a realm of their own, this is mine.” 

“Realm” she glanced around. 

“Not exactly the fires of Hell they speak of” Stannis said dryly. 

“No” she said weakly. “I’m sorry…”

“You do not need to apologize” he assured her, reaching out to touch her cheek. She flinched but did not pull away. “Perhaps, someday you will no longer fear me.”

“I have a decade of instruction against a single day of acquaintance,” she replied. 

“Sanctuary will be punished for their treason” he promised. “You should have been treated as a Goddess---”

“Goddess? No” she shook her head.

“Yes” he stated, glancing to Davos who gave a nod and left them in the library, though he left the door open, for which she was grateful. “You were created by The Father and The Mother, Sansa, planted in a Duchess and born into this world to be my bride. Upon the event of our wedding, the consummation of vows, my life will be bound to yours. My strength, my power, my immortality will be yours. And in turn, your mercy, your humility will be mine. It is the way of the Balance.” 

“I have spent my life within the stone walls of Sanctuary” she reasoned. “I have been berated, starved and beaten in your name” she swallowed. “Until yesterday I assumed I was nothing, a no one.”

“You are far from those things,” he said. “And I will never forgive myself for what they have done to you.” 

“Because I do not worship you?” 

“Because you are afraid of life--of your very essence” he countered. “You were afraid of them, when they should have lived in fear of you!” At his tone she couldn’t help but cower back, her hands clutching her throat, “Damn” he cursed softly, reaching for her. “Sansa---”

“No” she stepped back, shaking her head. 

“I will not hurt you, my darling,” he assured her, moving closer. His soft tone and the words ‘my darling’ reminded her of her dream of how loving he had been. This man had once been her solace…

“Which is real” she asked. “The man in my dreams or the God in the stories?”

He sighed deeply. “Both. The God in stories is bound by duty and purpose, I do only what I must. The man in your dreams is _me_. I wanted to know you as myself, as a man who wished only to hold his woman…” this time when he reached out to touch her she did not move away. His hand moved from the bare column of her throat and into her hair, carding into the length. “With you I am only a man. With you I am simply ‘Stannis’.” 

She raised a hand, remembering the feel of his heart from her dream, and placed it over his doublet, finding the echo of his heartbeat. Her eyes drifted closed as she focused on the rhythm, thump-thump, thump-thump. She felt it ripple through her, her own body falling into sync with his. 

“Ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum,” she whispered along with their heart beats, using it to anchor herself in the moment. “Promise me you will never hurt me” she whispered. 

“I could never.”

“Promise me” she asked again and he wrapped his arms around her, guiding her against his chest. Her eyes opened then, locking on his and doing her best to discern his sincerity. 

“I promise you, Sansa” he said. “You are safe with me. I could never hurt you.”

She saw the truth in his eyes, the determined tilt of his jaw, “Stannis” she said softly, watching him as she reached out to touch his face. The hard line of his jaw melted against her touch, relaxing into her hand as his eyes drifted closed. Who was this man, this God, she wondered. Story told he was the one who rode across the earth and laid waste to man and beast alike, but in her hand, he was soft, sad and ...broken. “I would get to know you” she said softly, her thumb trailing across his cheekbone. “You, and not the monster I have been warned of.”

“I am not a monster” he promised, opening his eyes to watch her. 

“Show me.” 

Stannis watched her from the balcony outside of his office. She had been in his realm nearly a moon’s turn now and each day her found her more enchanting. She was unfailingly kind to those around her, even when she was afraid she stood tall and strong. 

Now that she was in the realm of the Seven, her beauty had seemed to magnify, becoming ethereal in a way that was hard to describe. Though her closet was filled with both black and red gowns, she chose red more often than not, asserting her bravery over the color she had long been taught to fear. 

This also extended to her hair, the vibrant length seeming to move like living flame, highlighting porcelain skin and brilliant blue eyes. The moment their lives were bound she would cease aging, and while he was stuck in the body of a man of forty, she would be young and beautiful for all eternity. 

It was fitting, he supposed, for Life and Death to be so unmatched, opposites of each other in so many ways. 

She had asked him to show her that he was not a monster, so the first thing he did was give her a copy of the Book of the Seven, a full version that included every piece of his history, good and bad. She would see everything documented in black and white, not spoken from the lips of a corrupted tutor. 

She had accepted the large book graciously and he escorted her to her room, the ones she had woken in earlier. While he wanted nothing more in this world than to take her to his room and make her his bride, it would have to wait until she was no longer afraid of his touch. She had seemed surprised that she would have such a well-appointed room to herself, but he assured her that she was not a prisoner here. 

She had started reading the Book that first night, and as time passed he would see her in different parts of the estate looking stunningly beautiful, curled up reading. 

It was happening slowly, perhaps. After her first full day of reading she accepted his invitation to dine with him, and from then on they shared the evening meal together. Occasionally she would ask questions, from her reading and from her teachings, and they would discuss them at length until she was satisfied with his answer or any accord they reached. 

After she finished the Book of the Seven, she came to his office and asked for the supplementary texts or any histories that she could read. Davos had given him an encouraging smile as he replaced her finished book on the shelf and handed her several more. 

Today he could see her on the black sand beach below, her dress a vibrant blood red that stood out like fire across the shore. She was sitting on a large, smooth rock, ignoring the breeze around her as she read one of the books he gave her yesterday.

“Your Grace” Davos entered the office and move to the balcony beside him. “I have just received word that Sanctuary has been destroyed.”

“I know” Stannis frowned. “I felt their deaths early this morning. I did nothing to stop it.”

“In the rubble, the Mark of--”

“I know, Davos” Stannis looked to his sworn man, seeing the worry in the older man’s eyes. 

Davos had been as smuggler and sailor many years ago. When his ship began to capsize in the stormy seas, he pulled an ancient coin from his pocket and summoned the God of Death himself. Stannis had looked at the struggling man, trying to pull a younger version of himself onto the lifeboat but bleeding too heavily to do so. 

_ “Save him, Your Grace” the man pleaded. “Take me, but save him, I beg you._

That night The Stranger had swapped one soul for another, allowing Matthos Seaworth to live when he should have died, and taking Davos in his place. From that night on, Davos had been the right hand of The Stranger, never once regretting his decision. Now, when The Mother would visit, she would tell Davos of Matthos’ life, his wife, the grandchildren named for him; and Davos would smile anew. 

“If he has escaped Tartarus, then he will stop at nothing to find you” Davos frowned. “To have her.” 

“The Warrior hunts him too” Stannis nodded. “But he is using corrupted magic to hide his tracks well. The Warrior will be here tonight.”

“Is that wise?”

“His wife will be with him” Stannis nodded. “I thought perhaps if Joanna spoke with Sansa…”

“If she is not bound to you, she can be taken by another” Davos warned. “If Life is defiled, then it will poison the world.”

“I know” Stannis replied. “But I will never force her, never rape her.” 

“If the Flayed Men take her---”

“Then let the world end” Stannis replied. “If she is hurt in any way, I will end it all. I care not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.  
Picset is viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187455491311/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/)


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so glad you guys are enjoying this, cause I was SUPER worried it would be TOO out there!
> 
> Picset is viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187455491311/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/)

Sansa returned to the estate, a large gothic mansion that seemed to extend into the very heavens, in the early afternoon, having finished another book that had her head swimming with questions. 

The tome Stannis had given her, while not very large, had been a hand-written account filled with information regarding the Balance and The Seven themselves. She understood, perhaps a little better now, about what Stannis had spoken briefly of before. 

In all things, small and large, a balance between light and dark was needed. It was such balance that kept the universe going and that balance, or rather, Balance, applied to the Gods themselves. Each of The Seven was capable of indescribable power, and such power untempered could allow a God to either overthrow and defeat the other Gods or destroy the world they were sworn to govern. 

So each God was given a soulmate, a being created from the collective power of the Gods to balance one of The Seven. 

The Mother and The Father, the first and weakest of the Gods, Balanced to each other. The purest of maternal and paternal instinct, they saw over all of existence with impartial eyes. 

The Maiden, a woman who went by Myrcella was balanced by a once-human man named Trystane, who was Lust. From Trystane came legends of the Incubus, a demon driven by lust and sexual conquest. He drew power from the dark and carnal, and she tempered it with pure love. They had been bound when the original Dorne Empire fell many millennia ago.

The Crone, Catelyn lived with the unfortunate burden of foresight had found her Balance in a man named Eddard, whose memory of the Past and its nightmares haunted him each day. He had survived the Great Winter to find her, and her madness was tempered in his stoicism. 

The Warrior, the mightiest and most powerful of The Seven, often likened to a roaring lion, had taken the name Tywin. Ancient Greek and Roman legend spoke of him as being able to defeat any in combat, Titans included, and having slain a thousand men in a single battle. This mighty, proud man had never expected to meet his Balance, of course, but the moment he laid eyes on the beautiful blonde woman Joanna, he was lost. The Warrior, a creature of power was said to be balanced in weakness, but Joanna was not weak, she was simply _his_ weakness. 

The Smith, had taken the name Gendry, worked closely on the creation and evolution of the world. With his creator’s hands he helped to shape the future of the universe. So it only made sense that he would find his Balance in Destruction, a small woman named Arya who had been an assassin when she encountered the mighty Smith. 

The chapter on The Stranger had been short, speaking of his solitary walk through time and his unbearable duty to the realm. She felt her heart ache as she read that he felt each and every death in the universe, each one a pang in his chest as their souls entered purgatory, awaiting his judgement. 

The Stranger was once rumored to not have a Balance, the others in The Seven believing that Death was so finite, that there was no way to temper it. But The Mother and The Father had worked for years to create the being they called “Sansa”, Life. It was there that his chapter ended. There was no information on his bonding date, or what Sansa was capable of, it simply ended. 

She supposed that was because the story hadn’t been written yet. Their story, she worried her lower lip as she entered the grand house, the sound of voices reaching her. 

“Sansa” Stannis’ voice reached her as she hid at the corner of the hallway, watching the two blonde figures in the foyer. 

She took a step forward, standing tall as she moved to Stannis' side. While the blond man was not at tall as The Stranger--as Stannis, he was imposing and his emerald gaze was cold. Under his scrutiny she moved close to Stannis, the fabric of her red gown swirling around his legs as she took his hand. 

Through his palm she felt his heartbeat and she focused on it, used it to anchor herself. 

“I must say” the tall, blond man said. “It is a great honor to meet you at last, Lady Sansa.”

“We have been waiting ages” the woman on his arm smiled, the expression filled with such warmth it reminded Sansa of how she had pictured the image of The Mother to be. 

“Sansa” Stannis said softly. “This is Tywin and Joanna” he explained. “Though, I suppose in simpler terms, The Warrior and his Balance.” 

“Oh” Sansa looked between the two, her mind racing over all that she had just read. “It is lovely to meet you,” she said finally. 

It was silly perhaps, to have imagined that the Warrior would have been younger and his Balance somehow...weak, but to see them in the flesh was intimidating. The Warrior wore black and gold, his silver-blonde hair a complement to his emerald eyes and the opulent clothing. His Balance, she wore a matching gown of gold, her golden hair hanging to her waist in thick waves. 

“We are both very happy to finally meet you” the woman, Joanna, smiled. 

Stannis turned to her then, squeezing her hand gently, “There are a few delicate matters that I must discuss with Tywin, will you be alright to escort Joanna to the solar? We shouldn’t take too long and I thought perhaps…” he paused, his thumb smoothing over her hand. “Perhaps she would be able to answer any questions you have” he looked pointedly to the book in her hand. 

“Yes” she nodded. “Thank you, I have many.” 

“I shall see you soon, then” he gave a small smile, releasing her hand. She nodded, stepping back to watch the two men as they strode through the house and into the great library-cum-office she knew Stannis worked in. 

“Come” Sansa smiled at Joanna. “I will have them bring us tea and something to eat. He said it will not take long, but…”

“You know him well already” Joanna laughed, the two of them moving to the solar that overlooked the sunset on the ocean. They settled into two large chairs near the bay windows while a Shade, a servant in this realm, stoked the fire and went in search of a tray of tea. “Tell me, Sansa” Joanna smiled. “Are you as overwhelmed by this as I was?” 

Sansa nodded, “I am likely worse. I… everything is so confusing.” 

“I am sure you have questions” Joanna prompted. “I did, but I had to depend on The Crone. She is lovely but her answers are fairly scattered.” 

“I suppose the most important question is” Sansa lay her hands on her lap. “Who am I?” 

“You are Sansa” Joanna said without pause. “You are a woman created by The Mother and The Father to be the companion of The Stranger and the harbinger of Life.” 

“But what does that mean?” Sansa asked. 

“It means that you two are two halves of the same coin, part of the same soul cloth” Joanna said. “For Ty and I, it is different. I am his humility, a reminder that while he can defeat any who challenge him, that there are those who are weaker than cannot defend themselves” she said sadly. “We have been wed these three-thousand years but my body is still too weak to give him a child” she admitted softly. 

“Joanna, I am sorry” Sansa found herself saying, knowing the words would do no good to ease her grief. She reached out to touch the other woman’s hand, hoping that a comforting touch would help her. 

“It is alright” Joanna said, holding her hand softly, her palm warm against her own, the sadness in her green eyes telling Sansa that it was something that weighed heavily on her. “What is a warrior without a son?” 

“A Warrior still” Sansa assured her, squeezing her hand softly before releasing it.

“I know that it is easy to be afraid” Joanna said as their tea arrived, the Shade pouring the warm liquid before vanishing once more. “Especially when you are bound to The Stranger, but Stannis is a good man, a good God.”

“I am learning this” Sansa admitted, lifting her tea cup. “It is hard to overcome a lifetime of teaching, all of them telling me such horrible things about him.”

“You have been reading” Joanna motioned to the book in Sansa’s lap. 

“I have” Sansa nodded. 

“Even the most biased accounts are not unreasonable” Joanna smiled softly. “Stannis does what he must, just as Ty does. They are bound by duty and they must obey.”

“And us?” Sansa prompted. 

“We are here to love them and be loved” she replied. “There isn’t a temptation in the universe that could pull Ty from my side, or me from his.”

“You do not fear his power?” Sansa asked. 

“No, because he would never hurt me” Joanna said. “He could not. We are more precious to them than anything in the universe. I know it is strange, to be suddenly thrust into this world of Gods and Balances, but I can promise you, Sansa, Stannis would never hurt you or endanger you. From the moment of your birth on, he will have been focused on your safety and protection. The only thing that kept him away was the war with the Old Gods.” 

“The Old Gods” Sansa repeated. 

“It went on for a decade” Joanna explained. “It was terrible. Brutal and violent. Arya, The Smith’s mate, almost died. The Children of the Forest nearly clawed her apart. And Stannis...they nearly destroyed him. It was terrible. I worried for Ty every day, just as the others worried for their mates.” 

“I have a book on the war, but I have not read it yet” Sansa said. 

“It will be awful for you, I am certain” Joanna nodded. “Imagine being the God of Death during a war claiming mortal and immortal lives alike. It is enough to tear a weaker man asunder.”

Sansa frowned, remembering reading about how Stannis would feel each death in his chest. It must have been hell for him, to live through yet another war. He was a man tortured, each and every day, but he stood stoic and strong in its face. 

Perhaps it was why he had leaned into her touch so, to feel a moment's peace in the hands of someone you loved...

Did he though? Could he love her? While she hardly knew him, he had been watching over her for nearly her entire life. He knew her heart better than she did, was that love? And her, did she love him? She hardly knew him and there were moments where the fear in her chest was overwhelming. 

But he hadn’t put that fear there, her brain told her. Others had put it there to turn you from him. To control you, her mind reasoned. And control her they had. Even now the color red sent a shiver through her. It was why she forced herself to wear it each day, to show the universe that she was not broken, not completely. 

“I suppose the greatest part that awaits you” Joanna sighed softly. “Is the marriage bed.”

Sansa’s stomach dropped, “What do you mean?”

“Oh” Joanna’s porcelains cheeks flushed. “They are Gods, dear, in all respects.”

“Oh” Sansa felt her own cheeks heart, trying to imagine what Joanna meant. The wistful smile and sigh told her that this was something positive, something life changing. 

“Trust me” Joanna beamed. “Once you are married, you will understand what I mean.” 

“I...I suppose” Sansa nodded, wondering what could possibly make the woman seem to ethereally happy. 

They talked for a while, sharing tea and small cookies for some time before the men--the Gods joined them. Sansa watched as Tywin moved to Joanna’s side, taking her hand as if the need to be connected to her was too great to ignore. He was a large man, but the small woman seemed to be the center of his world. 

Sansa found herself sending a plea to The Mother, hoping that perhaps just one more prayer would allow the pair before her to find the happiness they sought for so long. 

Sansa felt a soft hand on her shoulder, the reassuring touch having her gaze moving to look up at Stannis’ great height. She smiled at him, letting him know that the conversation with Joanna was something that she hadn’t realized she needed. Raising her hand she placed it over his on her shoulder, her thumb smoothing across the flesh of his hand. 

“Shall we dine?” Stannis asked softly. 

“Of course” Sansa set her teacup aside and made to stand. Stannis’ hand was there in an instant, pressing to her waist through the red gown, steadying her as she stood. “Thank you” she whispered, reaching out to touch his forearm, just beside the elbow. 

He did not reply, simply watched her with those dark blue eyes of his, pleading with her for something she could not recognize. Her hand slid from his forearm, across the fabric of his black formal dinner coat and to his hand. His fingers entwined with hers without hesitation, clinging to her like a lifeline. 

“Come” he said. “Dinner awaits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picset is viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187455491311/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/)


	5. Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO happy you're enjoying this, or at the very least, reading it! It is different than anything I have done, but I am really enjoying the dark themes. THANK YOU for sticking with me!
> 
> Picset is viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187455491311/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/)

The man once known as ‘Roose’ stared across the near-darkness of the frozen Far North. He was tired, but could not sleep. Would not sleep. The moment his eyes closed he was surrounded by the sight of twisted, broken half-men and the screams of those being punished in the other circles.

In life he had been a nobleman, a Lord and a damned powerful one at that. He’d built an army, trained them well, and when his King visited, he slit the man’s throat. He killed the Queen and their unborn child as well. He hadn’t stopped spilling royal blood until their dynasty had ended. He’d taken the human realm by right, but a betrayal within his ranks cost him his life and The Stranger thrust him into Hell in punishment for his misdeeds. 

He’d survived Hell, powered by sheer spite, with a little help from the Old Gods, and he would have his revenge. But how did one take revenge upon The Stranger himself? 

Learning about the birth of The Stranger’s soulmate had been the key he hadn’t known he needed. The Old Gods had been watching The Seven closely, biding their time in their own right for the girl--the woman to turn of age so they too could take her. 

After all, how do you kill Death? By destroying the only thing he loves.

He had been a fool, trusting Baelish to orchestrate his first plan. To have the woman so terrified of The Stranger that when he arrived to claim her on the occasion of her eighteenth year, that she would run to the arms of another man, of a ‘rescuer’.

He had planned to take her on the ground in front of The Stranger, then drive a blade into her heart and watch as the soul left her body.

But that had not worked, and so he had to act quickly. Sooner rather than later, The Stranger would work his way into her bed, and then she would become increasingly hard to kill until she was immortal in truth.

He turned to see The Children of the Forest, the acolytes of the Old Gods, as they worked to forge a weapon that could kill a Goddess. A blade that could kill Life at its purest. 

The Children were his only allies in this, because he wasn't the only one who had a debt against The Stranger to repay.

Stannis observed her, admiring the smile on Sansa’s face as she laughed with Joanna. The two women seemed to have come to an accord, a quick friendship that had them both smiling. Tywin, Stannis noticed, also seemed bemused by the pair. 

Dinner had been a delightful affair, Tywin and Joanna regaling Sansa with stories as they shared the meal. It had taken Stannis a few moments to settle in once they had reached the dining room. Not only because he was not accustomed to such dinners in his realm, but because Sansa had chosen to take his hand, not his arm, so he could escort her to dinner. 

For thousands of years he had lived deprived of touch, without any sort of solace against the constant fog of death in the back of his mind. He lived each day with the knowledge that everything was in decay around him, and because of this, he had grown cold and withdrawn. But the moment her skin met his own, everything else in the universe fell silent. His mind would quiet and he could _breathe_, he could lose himself in the silk of her skin and warmth of her touch. 

She had taken his hand, and the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders. More and more since she had come to this realm, he could feel the thrum of life that seemed to emanate from her being. Away from the dreary prison she had been kept in, she had begun to blossom. 

They adjourned to the music room after their meal, each pair on a sofa, all of them relaxing around the fire. As he covertly observed her, he noticed her eyes kept returning to the piano in the corner of the room, a puzzled look on her face. 

“Sansa” he leaned closer, whispering to her. “Are you well?”

“I am fine” she paused. “But I wonder...what is that?” she asked, looking back to the piano. 

“The piano?” he frowned. 

“Piano” Sansa repeated. “I have never seen one before.” 

His frown deepened, “Have you never heard music?” 

She shook her head, “No, it was not permitted..nor was art or..” she frowned. “Embroidery? Everything must be plain.” 

“Oh, my darling” he shook his head, closing his eyes briefly against a tide of fury and pain. “I am so sorry, I will never forgive myself.” 

“It is alright,” she assured him, “You did not know.”

“Is all well?” Joanna asked softly.

“Joanna” Stannis asked quietly in return. “Would you play for us? Honor Sansa with her first taste of music?”

Joanna hid her surprise well, though Stannis could see the curiosity in Tywin’s eyes as she nodded, “I would be delighted” she stood and moved to the piano bench. 

Beside him, Sansa watched in rapt fascination as Joanna sat and when the soft notes of the music filled the room her entire body went still. Her hands gripped the skirt of her dress tightly and he reached out, taking her hand into his own. She clung to his hand, listening to the song ebb and flow, tears soon running down her face even though she did her best to blink them away. 

As the song came to a close, Sansa abruptly stood, her hand pulling from his, “Excuse me” she whispered and ran from the room. 

Stannis didn’t hesitate, but followed her, his longer legs allowing him to catch up to her as she turned the corner in the hall. 

“Sansa” he gently took her wrist, guiding her to a stop. “Sansa…”

“It’s so beautiful” she whispered on a sob, turning to face him. “The music, its beautiful and I---” she shook her head. 

“There is nothing to be ashamed of” he pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and carefully dried her cheeks. 

“I am not ashamed,” she said. “I wonder why something so beautiful is forbidden? Is all music that beautiful?”

“It is” he said. “Joanna is a very talented musician, perhaps she could teach you to play.” 

“Teach me?” Sansa’s eyes went wide. “You would allow---” she broke off, looking to his hand on her wrist and the other hand which still held the handkerchief. She stared at them for several moments, her eyes bouncing between the two. “Stannis” she eventually said, turning her wrist in his hand so that her fingers would twine with his. “They kept so much from me, so much beauty and truth” she stepped closer, her blood red skirts brushing his legs and he felt his heart begin to race. 

“I will never forgive their trespasses against you” he whispered, his mind barely able to form the words. “But they have already been punished for them.” 

“If they had obeyed” she continued. “If they had kept their vows and taught me well, what would our first meeting have been like?” 

“I do not know,” he replied. “But perhaps,” he raised their twined fingers, gently kissing the back of her hand. “Perhaps rather than running from me, you would have run towards me.”

“And when I reached you?” she looked up at him, her beauty beyond intoxicating. 

He felt the warmth in his cheeks--in his chest, as he spoke, “I would have pulled you into my arms, and I would have kissed you, Sansa. I would have finally had you in my arms and I would never have let go.”

She moved closer still, their bodies nearly pressed together, her free hand rising to cradle his jaw, “You are no monster, Stannis” she whispered. 

He did not reply, he could not, because as she spoke she guided his head to hers, her lips rising to meet his in their first kiss. It was soft, tentative at first, her whimper sending his control wavering. He wrapped an arm around her miniscule waist, the fabric of her dress brushing against him like the wind as he held her closer. 

Her hand on his jaw slid to his neck, pulling him closer as his lips parted hers. He kissed her as a man starved, not of lust but of the touch of this woman. His woman, for only her touch could spread warmth through his long-cold body, breathe life back into Death himself. 

He tightened his hold around her waist, wishing he could meld them into a single being, never having to be parted from her. At his action, her hand tightened at the back of his neck, pulling him deeper into their kiss. He could taste the watered port she had in the music room and the rich, sinful taste that belonged only to her. He drank it in, every drop of her elixir that he could, and savoured it. 

She whimpered once more, her lips parting from his as they tried to catch their breath. Foreheads pressed together, he watched her smile, unbridled happiness in her eyes. He could feel her trembling in his arms, but this time it was not out of fear, this time her body moved itself closer, pressed against him in passion.

“That was better than music” she laughed softly, the sound musical in itself. 

“That was our own music, my darling” he briefly kissed her, smiling when he pulled away and she followed, prolonging their kiss. 

“Does Death take holiday?” she asked quietly as he prepared to release her. 

“Holiday?”

“A day to spend with me” she met his eyes. “Together.” 

“Tomorrow?” 

She nodded, “We could walk along the cliffs, or the beach, or---”

He silenced her with a brief kiss, “Anything you want, as long as we’re together.” 

She smiled that brilliant smile of hers, “Alright” she paused. “Stannis, do you think Joanna would teach me to play the piano? To play music?” 

“Let’s go and ask her” he squeezed her hand, giving her a small smile. She nodded and he led her back to the music room and their patiently waiting guests. 

The unfamiliar sound echoed across the beach and into the trees, pulling the attention of the spectral creatures of the realm’s forest. Their ears pricked up, having never heard such a cry before. 

The largest of the creatures moved forward on ghostly limbs, its tail barely brushing the grass behind it, making no sound as it prowled. The others fell in behind it as it crept to the edge of the tree line. They were fearful, unsure of what creature could make such a sound, and were proceeding with caution. 

Could it be the woman? they all thought. The one they had seen reading on the rocks? But she had seemed too serene for such a noise…

The beast moved silently to the cliff’s edge, looking down to where the dark waves crashed over an even darker shore. Its head tilted, listening as the sound echoed once more. Then again. Then...there she was, the woman from the rocks. Only this time she was not alone. 

The Stranger was with her, but he was different. They were together on the sand, neither of them wearing foot coverings as the humans usually did. She was running from The Stranger, her clothes bunched as she splashed in the waves, part of her pale legs visible as she ran. She looked back, her hair the color of fire, flying as The Stranger easily caught her, swinging her into his arms. He was carrying the woman in red now, and she was not afraid.

A wave of water crashed around them, and the noise came once more, the woman’s head thrown back as the water splashed them. She was not crying, she was...joyful. 

The other creatures took the beast’s silence as safety and moved closer, some even crawling onto its back for a better view. They had never seen such a spectacle, not in this realm. When they had been in the Earthly plane there were humans, some good and some bad, but they did their best to avoid them. In the realm of The Stranger, they did not have to worry, as their God was a solitary God. But now….

There was something about the woman with the hair of fire. Something vibrant and teeming with life. Even having moved only a short distance closer to her, they could feel the chill around them dissipate, its icy ironclad grip slipping away for their incorporeal forms. 

The woman had her arms around The Stranger now, their heads bent together. How curious...

The phantom creatures all watched in silence as the God of Death wooed his mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Joanna's Nocturne [HERE](https://youtu.be/5ZUw78FXpG4/)
> 
> Picset is viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187455491311/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/)


	6. Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of background information, some fluff...
> 
> Picset is viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187455491311/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/)

“Tell me about the Night King” Sansa asked as they sat on the dark sand of the shore. The sun would set soon, but they had the light of the fire beside them to illuminate the evening. Stannis had built it himself and they’d used drift wood to keep it ablaze. 

When a chill had set in the air, they pulled on their boots once more and he wrapped her in his coat, the rich scent of him surrounding her from where clung to the fabric. Now she was sitting between his strong legs, his arms around her as she relaxed against his chest. Two moons ago she lived in fear of touch, but in Stannis’ arms she found peace, not fear. 

They had spent the day together, a lovely day where they could both forget the burdens of the world and just _be_ together. They had talked of anything that came to mind, speaking as open equals as they shared memories and thoughts. She could see now how wrong Sanctuary had been in their teachings. She could see what a blasphemous, grievous insult they had hurled in what they taught her of The Stranger. 

After breaking their fast they had walked through the estate, eventually ending up on the beach. She had never seen the ocean before coming here, and she wished she could feel it around her. Having expressed as much aloud, Stannis encouraged her to remove her boots and to step into the water, promised her that nothing would hurt her. 

She had been reluctant but soon sat upon the sand to remove her boots and stockings before walking to the water. The sand felt surprisingly smooth beneath her feet, the sensation making her laugh as the grains tickled her feet. 

She stood at the edge of the dark water, holding her skirts and waiting for the right moment… 

_ “You are safe, my darling” Stannis assured her and she stepped forward as a wave came in, splashing around her ankles. _

_ She screamed in laughter, the cool water surprising her, “It’s cold!” She stood there for a few moments and when the next wave came this time she kicked a foot out, splashing water back into the sea. When the wave receded she turned to see Stannis watching her, an odd sort of smile on his lips. “Join me!” she smiled as another wave surged in, splashing her. “Come!”_

_ Stannis sat beside her boots, removing his own along with his socks. Thankfully he wore breeches today and didn’t want to worry about his pants being too long. He did, however, decide to remove his coat, leaving him in his black waistcoat and shirt sleeves. He was quite an imposing man---imposing God, even without his coat and boots he still seemed to tower over her. _

_But as large as he was, he didn’t frighten her. Not any longer. She has seen the truth of him now; his gentle, wounded heart and his careful manner. He was a man accustomed to the scorn of others, and as such accepted it. She found that unacceptable. She had read so much about his duty that she knew she would wish it on no one and his duty would be too much for her to bear. _

_She smiled as he approached, and when a new wave came in, she splashed him with an easy kick to the water. He paused, looking to his wet breeches and then back to her. She stood still, watching the smile crawl across his lips._

_ She didn’t know what came over her, but she laughed as happiness bubbled over in her chest, turning to run through the tide. She could hear him behind her, splashing his own path and she turned to laugh at him, screaming out as he lifted her from the water and spun her around. _

_ She let her eyes drift shut, her head falling back as she felt as weightless as a bird in the sky. She was flying, she was free, she smiled as he held her high against his chest. The wind rushed around them, but she did not mind, she could feel the warmth of his body against hers and that was enough to keep her warm. _

_ Eventually he lowered her feet to the wet sand beside his, and she smiled up at him. His eyes, usually dark and stormy, were bright, happiness shining through them. This time she didn’t have to guide him, he initiated the kiss on his own, taking her lips in a sweet, passionate kiss._

“The Night King was a man, once” Stannis’ deep voice rumbled against her where she leaned against him. “In Ancient Greece they would have called him a ‘Titan’ but he was born a simple man with blood of fire. His name was Aegon Targaryen, and at the instructions of the Old Gods he was taken by the Children of the Forest and turned into a monster. He became undead, his heart still and soul hollow. He was sent to destroy the world, plunging it into an Eternal Winter that froze everything in its path. When it was clear that he had no intention of stopping, The Father and The Mother rose up against the Old Gods and created the rest of The Seven. Together we fought on the side of Man.” 

“I read that it was you who killed him” she prompted. 

“I did” Stannis nodded, his chin resting atop her head. “My sword, Lightbringer is pure Valyrian steel, and in my hand it glows with flame. Two of the three things that can kill the Walkers.” 

“What is the third?” she asked. 

“Dragonglass” he explained. “A resource found in abundance in my realm, so Gendry used it to create weapons for war.”

“And a few years ago, the Children of the Forest, the Old Gods” Sansa said. “They tried to start another war?”

“They were successful,” he said. “We were at war for a decade. Their goal is to rid the world of the New Gods, of The Seven and their followers, and to reclaim the earth from man. They nearly won, and we nearly lost one of our own. They retreated into the Great North, and have been watched carefully since.”

“Watched?” 

“They are not known to be a merciful people, The Children” he gave a small sigh. “And with the Old Gods out for blood, we have to be vigilant. They helped a man named Roose Bolton escape from The Seven Hells, Sansa. That same man was coming to Sanctuary.”

“They helped him? Why?” she asked. 

“They share a mutual hatred of The Stranger,” he scoffed. “Like the rest of the world. I killed the Night King, they consider that a debt to be paid.” 

“I do not hate you” she turned to look up at him. 

“You are one of the few” he kissed her forehead. 

“Why was he coming to Sanctuary? To meet you?” 

“He was coming for you” Stannis’ whisper was barely heard over the waves. “You are mortal, I believe he planned to kill you while I watched. Even unbound, destroying you would mean my eventual death. With the loss of my Balance, my own being would wither into death or madness, whichever claimed me first...I would see to the end of the world before I lived without you.” 

She felt the weight of the words crash over her. The Guardian had told her to ‘choose The Stranger’ and the Headmaster had told her to ‘Choose’ a man that would make her his bride. He’d known that The Stranger was coming but there was another…

“The Headmaster helped Roose” she realized. 

“He did” Stannis agreed.

“Is he still coming?” she swallowed a lump of fear. 

“Yes.”

“How do we stop him?” 

“Tywin and I have been forming a plan, but my biggest priority is to keep you safe” Stannis explained. 

“If I am mortal, he can kill me” she reasoned. “But if we are bound--”

“I will not force--”

“No” she sat up, turning to face him. “If we are bound, we will both be safer. You will be safer, not just me. I read about it, we will both be stronger, our powers shared, minds connected. Stronger together than apart.” 

“Correct” he agreed. 

“If we are bound, the Old Gods cannot take you from me,” she reasoned, remembering what Joanna had said, remembering what she had read, what everything meant. Stannis shared her soul, they were bound to each other, created to Balance each other and she never wanted him to be in danger. Not because of war and certainly not because of her. “How do we…” she paused, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket. “How do we bind ourselves---”

“I will not have you give yourself to me out of pity or obligation” he said sadly. 

“That is not what I am doing, Stannis” she replied. “There is no obligation and there is certainly no pity. You _are_ the man from my dreams; the man who comforted me and held me while my world fell apart. You are not a monster or a reaper, but a warm and caring man” she moved closer, holding his face within her hands, guiding his eyes to hers. “Before my heart knew your name, it knew your heart” she moved a hand to cover his heart through his waistcoat. “I would be your wife, your soulmate, if you would have me.” 

“Have you?” he asked, his voice hoarse and quiet. “I want nothing more in this universe than to have you, Sansa.” 

“Then make me your wife, Stannis” she smiled. “Tell me what I must do, and I will do it.” 

“Sansa” he took her hands from his face and into his, gently kissing the tips of her fingers. “You have to be certain--”

“At some point you will cease doubting my sincerity and answer my question” she interjected. 

“The Father marries us,” Stannis explained. “The Mother blesses us and then we…” he trailed off. 

“We make love” she answered for him and he nodded. 

“It’s unbreakable once done” he said softly. “You will ascend to the pantheon of The Seven, a Goddess of Life, and you will come in to whatever gifts lay hidden in your soul.”

“Gifts” she questioned. 

“As a guardian of life you should have some control of it, some sway to the universe’s hold” he elaborated. “I have sway over Death, Gendry over fire, Tywin over steel.” 

“That seems like a daunting responsibility” she whispered. 

“I will teach you, I will be at your side always” he promised. 

“When can you have them here?” 

“As soon as tomorrow, if---”

“Stannis” she met his gaze. 

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow” she repeated, smiling as she re-settled herself against his chest. The warmth of the fire keeping them warm against the child of the night, they stayed on the sand until the sun had set completely. 

“I need you to summon The Seven here tomorrow for a binding ceremony” Stannis instructed Davos later that evening. 

“That is wonderful news, Your Grace” Davos followed as Stannis strode quickly to his office. He had just walked Sansa to her bedroom, leaving her with flushed cheeks and swollen lips, the promise of tomorrow hanging between them. 

Stannis nodded, “It is, indeed” he moved to his desk. “Ask that Tywin and Joanna arrive early, if possible. I believe that Sansa would appreciate having Joanna’s company while she readies herself. Perhaps Joanna can allay any fears Sansa will have about…” he trailed off, unable to say the words ‘the wedding night’ aloud. Fortunately, Davos seemed to understand all the same.

“I understand, Your Grace” Davos assured him. 

“Tell me, Davos” he paused in searching the papers on his desk. “When was the last time we saw the pack?”

“The pack?” Davos froze. “In the western woods?”

“Yes” Stannis looked out to the window. “They were watching us today from the cliffs, as were the wolves from the fallen Stark family.”

“Were they still…?” 

Stannis nodded, “Losing them will always be my biggest regret. Watching the Night King devour my Hellhounds as I stood, powerless to stop him. When their spirits vanished into the woods, I thought I had lost them forever.”

“Perhaps, Your Grace, they feel that the Goddess of Life has come to the realm and they seek her warmth” Davos suggested.

“Perhaps” Stannis broke off his wistful gaze and focused on the matter at hand. “Tomorrow, Sansa and I will marry, then I will continue to do all I can to ensure that Roose never lays a hand on her.”

“Of course, Your Grace” Davos nodded, backing away.

“Davos” Stannis said and his sworn man paused. “Leave the gates open tomorrow, for the ceremony...you know which ones.” 

“Yes, Your Grace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picset is viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187455491311/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/)


	7. Part 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are amazing, you know that? 
> 
> You've earned it...A NEW PICSET
> 
> Picsets are viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187455491311/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/) and [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187499669246/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/)

Davos had not walked this path in years, the stone was nearly overgrown as he descended the steps toward the western woods. While he had only been in the service of The Stranger for a few centuries, he had heard many stories of the Hellhounds and their deaths at the hands of the Night King. 

He supposed that, before their demise, the hounds had been The Strangers only companions in this realm, or any realm for that matter. They had run into battle alongside The Stranger many times, only to fall at the hands of the Old Gods’ mad titan. 

The Warrior told him once, that when the Hounds passed into the Elysian Fields and vanished into the woods beyond, in his grief The Stranger had shut the gates of the estate so that no evil spirit may enter its boundaries. The hounds had guarded the home, and with them gone, he simply closed it off from the rest of the realm. 

Occasionally their howls were heard on the wind, a chilling sound that usually meant a storm was coming, but they had not been seen in a century, perhaps longer. Davos himself had only caught a glimpse of one from a great distance in the first years he was in the realm.

With their sudden reappearance and proximity to The Stranger and Lady Sansa on the beach, it seemed that The Stranger thought the beasts would return home. Today their master would bind himself to his Balance, and while The Stranger had found his love, it seemed he had found hope as well.

The hounds were mentioned in The Book of The Seven, though not in great detail, so when he came to the bottom of the staircase and was met with several wolves the size of horses waiting at the gate, Davos felt the keys in his hand drop to the stones. 

They were not wolves in the traditional sense; they held no corporeal form but seemed sheer, the world behind them visible through the blue glow they emanated. The largest of the group was so gigantic that Davos’ head did not reach its back, the great beast towered over him. 

“Well now” Davos bent to pick up the keys, unlocking the wrought iron and breaking the protection seals. “Welcome home” he opened the gates wide. 

Without hesitation the large beast entered, giving Davos only a passing glance as it sidled by. The rest followed, a mixture of ghostly Hellhounds and great Stark direwolves, they were an intimidating sight. 

Two, however, remained at the gate, one sitting on each side of the entrance, eyes on the horizon. It seemed they intended to resume their guard duties, as well.

Davos turned to the estate, following the stone path back up to the courtyard where the pack now mingled. The Stranger stood on the doorstep, watching his beasts with impassive eyes. At the sound of Davos’ footsteps, The Stranger turned, giving him a nod. 

“It seems they were waiting” The Stranger said. 

“They were, Your Grace” Davos replied. 

“Cerberus looks much the same” The Stranger said and the largest beast turned its head, moving towards its master. Davos watched The Stranger reach out, smoothing a hand over the ghostly creature. However, where the master’s hand touched, the creature’s body faded away, particles dancing, glittering in the air like diamonds before reforming once the hand was gone. “I am sorry, old friend” The Stranger said softly. The beast nuzzled The Stranger’s hand, uncaring that its form seemed to vanish at his touch. 

“There are two more at the gate, Your Grace” Davos informed him. "I believe they mean to keep watch."

The Stranger gave a brief expression of amusement before his features schooled once more, “Thank you, Davos.” 

Davos gave a nod, walking into the house and leaving The Stranger with his pack.

“You are beautiful” Joanna smiled from the doorway and Sansa turned to greet her friend. 

“You’re here” Sansa embraced her. She had been pinning her hair up, attempting to tame the ringlets into some semblance of style, using a black ribbon to hold them. Her dress, a long red red gown with black embroidery and a train that seemed to go on forever, hugged her torso tightly, the wide neckline dipping off each shoulder. 

The Sisters would have described her gown as ‘sinful’, but Sansa felt beautiful in the low cut velvet. She had smirked to herself as she adjusted the fabric earlier, if it was a sin then The Stranger would take her...and wasn’t that the idea?

“I am” Joanna nodded. “Tywin and Stannis have things to discuss, but I believe that Stannis also wanted to ensure that you did not have any questions regarding tonight.” 

“The ceremony?” Sansa asked. 

“I believe he is more concerned about _afterwards_” Joanna said, taking her hand. 

“Oh” Sansa felt her cheeks warm. “In truth, I am more nervous about meeting The Seven than I am about our wedding night.”

“Understandable” Joanna agreed. “But there is nothing to be worried about in either area. Today is a very important occasion.” 

“What should I expect? From the ceremony, I mean, not---after” Sansa asked. 

“We’ll all stand around you while The Father speaks, then he will use a small dagger to cut both yours and Stannis’ hands. You will join those hands and The Mother will bind them together, blessing you both” Joanna explained. 

“That doesn’t seem rather complicated, and then what?”

“Then we eat dinner and afterwards...” Joanna smirked, her brilliant green eyes gleaming. 

“Oh” Sansa blushed. “And what should I expect...from that.” 

Joanna took her hand and they moved to sit on the plush settee at the foot of the bed, “Given that you did now know music, is it safe to assume they kept the details of the marriage bed from you?” 

Sansa nodded, “I am ashamed at how little I know of the world. I did not know what a painting was until I saw the gallery here.” 

“There is nothing to be ashamed of,” Joanna assured her. “When Ty and I were married, things were much different, women found themselves stoned beyond the city walls if they even looked at a man. Things now are much more relaxed.”

“I forget how old you are” Sansa laughed. “You don’t look any older than I am.”

“I am only twenty, physically anyway. Tywin and Stannis are physically the same age I believe, in their very early forties,” Joanna said. “As for tonight, well, you are in for a treat.”

Stannis stood in the solarium, the clear night sky beyond the glass above them as The Seven gathered in wait for Sansa’s arrival. All of the other Gods were paired off, each couple together as they laughed and talked. 

To his right, Ned and Catelyn, The Crone, sat with their sons, Robb and Bran. Both teenagers now, the two boys fascinated with the dark ambiance of The Stranger’s home. It was the first occasion to have them here. It wasn’t often that The Stranger had parties, after all. 

“Stannis” the voice of The Father reached him and Stannis turned to see the large man at his side. 

“Yohn” Stannis shook the man’s hand. “Thank you--”

“There is no need. You have waited a very long time for this day” Yohn smiled, his blue eyes bright with happiness. The Father was a large man, nearly as tall as Stannis but quite a bit broader. Though he was not much older than Stannis, physically, his hair was a bright, snowy white to match his beard; a trait that Stannis believed that the mortals subconsciously added to their Saint Nicholas. He wore his usual tan and navy blue attire, a robe of copper silk over his shoulders, runes embroidered from hem to hem, stretching across his broad shoulders. 

“She is worth the wait” Stannis replied. 

“I daresay you’re right” Yohn chuckled. “No offense to this lot,” he glanced around the room. “But she is our finest creation yet.” 

“Showing favorites already, you old goat” the amused voice of The Mother spoke as she joined them. 

“Oh hush, woman” Yohn laughed as his wife’s arm looped through his. 

“Stannis, you’re looking sharp this evening” The Mother smiled. 

“Thank you Olenna” he bowed his head in respect. The Mother was a lovely woman, though her tongue could cut sharper than any blade when necessary. During the war she had been singularly valuable for just that. Appearing physically in her mid-forties, she was slender with rich auburn hair that was always impeccably styled according to the latest mortal fashion. 

“She’s special, our Sansa” Olenna said.

“I agree wholeheartedly” Stannis replied. 

“And beautiful beyond compare” Olenna smiled, looking over his shoulder. Stannis turned and felt as if the very air had been pulled from his body. She was as The Mother said, and he felt so undeserving in this moment that he could have dropped to his knees to thank The Father and The Mother for creating such perfection for him.

She wore a dress of deep red with black roses embroidered around the bodice, tapering to her waist. Her shoulders were bare, save the straps of her gown which hung off each side, the porcelain skin gleaming like moonlight in the solarium. The abundance of her hair was tamed with black ribbons, baring the slender column of her throat and he fought the sudden need to kiss her there, wondering how soft the skin would feel against his lips. 

Though she glanced at the others, she was focused on him as she crossed the room, her hands reaching out for his. He felt their tremble as he took them, and squeezed them gently to reassure her. 

“You are” he took a breath, tightly controlling his visceral reaction to her. “You are stunning.” 

“Thank you” she said softly. “Joanna fixed my hair, I made a mess of it” she laughed. 

“You’re beautiful either way” he said. 

She glanced around once more and moved closer to him, her skirts brushing his legs, “They’re all watching…” she whispered. 

“Admiring your beauty” Stannis assured her. “Wondering how it is The Stranger who has been given the most beautiful woman in the universe.” Sansa smiled, but before she could reply, she looked over his shoulder and he saw The Mother and The Father join them, “Sansa,” he placed her hand on his arm, guiding her to his side. “The Mother, Olenna, and The Father, Yohn.” 

“It is such an honor to meet you” Sansa’s voice was strong, though he could tell she was very nervous. 

“Ah, my dear” Yohn reached out to take Sansa’s hand in each of his. “It is us who are honored. You are our final Balance, and so very special.” 

“Thank you” Sansa smiled. “I suppose this is rather akin to meeting your parents for the first time.” 

“But we _are_ your parents, dear” Olenna replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

Stannis frowned, looking to Olenna, “You cannot mean---”

Olenna nodded, “Only Gods can create _Life_, Stannis” she smirked, reaching between them to take Sansa’s hand, pulling her closer. “Where do you think she gets her coloring? Come, let me introduce you to the others, dear.” Stannis looked from Olenna’s hair to Yohn’s eyes and realized that The Mother and The Father were not just giving him his Balance, but their daughter as well. 

“Be quick about it” Yohn smiled at his wife. “I am sure they’re anxious to move on to the ceremony, quite a matter of Life and Death, don’t you know?” he chuckled. 

“You and your jokes” Olenna rolled her eyes, smiling through her exasperation. She took Sansa’s hand and lead her to the others, but Stannis could only watch her in awe of this new revelation. 

“You didn’t tell me” Stannis looked to Yohn. 

“It wasn’t time” Yohn nodded. “She is special, Stannis, a Goddess in her own right. Once you are bonded and---er, consummate the bond, it will unlock her own gifts. To keep her anonymous and safe, we hid her parentage, placed her in a mortal womb and entrusted her to you.” 

“And I failed you” Stannis frowned, remembering the betrayal of Sanctuary. 

“She had a Guardian there, he did what he could” Yohn assured him. “She was safer there than in the chaos of the world, and certainly safer there once the war came.”

“The scarred man?” he asked, remember Sansa speaking of the large man that had always been by her side, the one who told her to choose The Stranger.

Yohn nodded, “A devoted follower of The Stranger, burdened with a great task. He did well, though he could not be in every place at once.” 

“I should like to meet this follower” Stannis replied. 

“You will, I have it on good authority he is very eager to meet you. Every deity needs a sworn man, I believe he would like to be hers” Yohn looked to Sansa who was laughing at something Arya, The Smith’s wife, had said. 

“Anything to keep her protected” Stannis said. 

“We are in agreement there” Yohn said as everyone took their places. “Shall we begin then?” 

Stannis gave a nervous nod, straightening his waistcoat, “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess you could say it was Davos who let the dogs out...


	8. Part 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! :D :D 
> 
> Picsets area viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187455491311/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/) and [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187499669246/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/)

Stannis and Sansa stood in the center of the seven pointed star that was inlaid in the stones of the solarium floor. The other Gods gathered around them, each couple taking their position on the star. 

“Today is a very special day,” Yohn began. “Today we welcome home our final Balance and a very special woman. Join hands” he spoke and Sansa took Stannis’ hands in hers, the warmth of his hands soothing her. 

It was overwhelming, being surrounded by The Seven as she waited to be bound to her soulmate, to The Stranger himself. She looked up from their joined hands to meet his gaze and her chest ached at the affection she saw in the dark blue depths of his eyes. She hoped that he could see it reflected back to him, that he could tell how deeply she cared for him. She wished she could properly explain how she felt, how the tendrils of love had begin to wind their way through her veins, planting him deep within her heart. 

She should have paid attention to what Yohn, The Father---her father, was saying, but she was so focused on Stannis that the words seemed to fade into the background. From the crisp black of his formal attire and bright white of his cravat, golden pin in place, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. His silver and black hair made him look distinguished and the sharp line of his jaw was her favorite place to leave lingering kisses. 

Her cheeks flushed and she smiled at his questioning gaze, assuring him without words that all was well. 

“Sansa” Yohn’s soft voice broke into her thoughts and she forced her gaze from its admiration of Stannis to turn to him. She realized then that everyone was watching, smiling, and he had very likely been trying to get her attention for some time. 

“Y-yes” she said, feeling terribly embarrassed. 

“Your left hand, dear” he smiled and she removed it from Stannis’ and presented it to Yohn. He turned it over, raising the brightly polished and ornately carved silver dagger she hadn’t noticed he had, drawing the tip along one of the lines on her palm. She saw the blood well, but felt no pain, watching in fascination as he did the same to Stannis’ left hand. “Place them together” Yohn instructed and Stannis held his hand out, palm up, and she placed her palm over his. “So they are one blood, one life and one being. From this day until they end of their days.” 

It was then that Olenna, The Mother, stepped forward, a length of red ribbon in her hands. Sansa found the color no longer bothered her and took comfort in knowing that it was The Stranger’s color. 

Starting at Stannis’ forearm, Olenna wrapped the ribbon around their joined hands until the end met Sansa’s forearm, “Bound are thee” Olenna smiled warmly. “May The Seven Bless you, may The Seven keep you. May you always be at each other's' side. The Balance has been struck and what the Gods have joined, cannot be torn apart.” 

Sansa felt their palms and the ribbon grow warm, her eyes wide as she watched the ribbon melt through the sleeve of Stannis’ jacket and the bare skin of her forearm, sinking firmly into their bloodstream. She felt it travel up her arm, spreading quickly as warmth suffused her entire body until it all receded, settling around her heart where she felt it thrum, beating in time with her heart. 

Ba-bum, ba-bum, she felt it echoing. Ba-bum. 

She gasped, looking to Stannis who was smiling back at her, “You’ve always taken solace in my heartbeat, as if you always knew it was meant to beat within your breast” he said quietly. 

“Can you---” she marvelled. 

He nodded, “I feel yours within mine, they beat together or not at all.”

“Together” she felt the tears welling in her eyes and did her best to hold them back. Stannis guided her into his embrace, his arms wrapping around her. “Husband” she whispered, smiling through the tears escaping her eyes. 

“I can hardly believe that you’re mine” he placed his forehead against hers, both of them overwhelmed by the binding. 

She held to the lapels of his waistcoat, turning her head to meet his as he kissed her. Their kiss was brief, though neither of them wanted to end it, they did not want to get too carried away. The applause of those around her barely reached her, but it was enough to remind her of their audience. 

“And now,” Yohn’s voice boomed. “We celebrate!”

Stannis sat with Tywin, Gendry and Yohn, all of them discussing the matter of Roose Bolton and his alliance with the Old Gods. The others were milling about, relaxing in the grand dining room that they so rarely had the chance to enjoy. 

They had all shared a large meal, the room filled to bursting with life as they talked and ate. They did not often celebrate, but tonight was a joyous occasion; the addition of the last Balance and the homecoming of the daughter of The Mother and The Father. The Stranger had succumbed to matrimony, a momentous occasion indeed. 

He watched as The Mother stood, smoothing her skirts and after giving Sansa a knowing glance, made her way to the balcony. Without hesitation, Sansa followed, the two women speaking in hushed tones beyond the room. 

They were out there for perhaps a quarter-hour, then returned arm-in-arm, wearing eerily similar smiles. 

“Ever watchful” Tywin chuckled, clapping him on the back. 

Stannis cleared his throat and gave a nod, “You jest, but I remember how you were when you wed Joanna” he smirked. 

“Damned right” Tywin laughed. “Still am. That woman is the very best part of me.” 

“I would be inclined to agree” Gendy added. “She’s certainly more likable than you.” 

“That isn’t saying much, she is more likable than most people,” Tywin shook his head with a smirk. “It will get easier,” he added, his tone serious as he looked to Stannis. “You’ll always feel her, but you won’t always panic when you can’t see her.” 

“With the threat of Roose on the horizon, I will always worry when I cannot see her” Stannis reasoned. “She is everything…”

“We will stop him” Yohn assured him. “Once he moves out of the realm of the Old Gods we will be able to find him.”

“And kill him” Tywin stated. 

“Unless The Stranger wants to have some fun with him first” Gendry smirked. 

“Make me chains to hold him, and I will give him to your wife,” Stannis stated plainly. 

“Gods” Gendry scoffed. “Arya would have a lovely time.” 

“Make me the chains” Stannis repeated.

“Consider it done” Gendry replied, raising his glass in salute. 

Stannis nodded, turning to Yohn, “The scarred man, when will he be ready?” 

“Sandor Clegane” Yohn said. “Anytime. He knows to expect you.”

“He’s a beast” Tywin chuckled. “Almost as big as his brother, both of them are damned good with claymores.” 

“His brother?” Stannis asked. 

“The Mountain” Tywin explained. “Another follower of yours, Stannis.”

“Can he be summoned if needed?” Stannis asked. 

“Yes” Yohn said. “But I wouldn’t keep him near a pretty wife….”

“Understood” Stannis said. “I shall fetch the scarred one--Sandor, within the sennight.”

“Explain it to Sansa first” Yohn advised. “I wouldn’t just spring him on her.” 

Stannis nodded, “I will talk with her. I will see to her safety, above all things.” 

“As will we all” Tywin agreed. “Though it would seem that your pack has returned to guard her as well.”

“I was happy to hear them outside when we arrived” Yohn nodded. “They had been away too long.” 

“Centuries” Stannis nodded to where Davos stood, speaking with Trystane and Ned. “Davos walked down to open the gates this morning and they were all waiting just outside the wards.” 

Talk of the pack had them reminiscing about the wars of old, sharing stories until Stannis’ eyes found Sansa as she came to his side. He could not get over how beautiful his wife was, the way her gown moved as she walked and how the red set off her porcelain skin. 

His wife, his Goddess of Life was just ...incredible. 

“May I steal you?” Sansa asked, taking his hand. 

“Always” he gave the men a nod and stood, offering his arm to her. She took it with a smile, escorting him towards the door and out into the hall. “Is all well?” he frowned. 

“Of course” she smiled, looking up at him. “It is a custom for a bride and groom to share a dance at their wedding. However, since I cannot dance, I thought it would all be the same if I simply stole you away for a private moment.” 

“I heartily agree” he glanced back to the dining room before he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into the dark hallway near the music room. She giggled against his shoulder as he held her, the dim light barely illuminating their hiding space. 

“Stannis” she sighed as he claimed her lips with his own. Her lips parted easily, returning his kiss with every bit of vigor he put into it. Her arms held tight to his shoulders and neck, her slender frame surprisingly strong. He nearly growled when her tongue teased his, the taste of her mouth sending his blood boiling. 

He turned her, pinning her against the wall, his lips tearing from hers to trail across her jaw to her neck where he gave into the urge to taste the porcelain skin of her neck and shoulder. Soft kisses and the trace of his tongue had her mewling in pleasure as he savoured the taste of her skin.

“Stannis” she whimpered as his mouth drifted from her shoulder to her decolletage, marvelling at the rise and fall of her breasts as the tried to catch her breath. Her dress was low enough that he wondered if he could push it aside to---no, he steeled himself. He would take her in their bed, in their marriage bed. 

Moving back to her lips he kissed her softly, “I would take you in our bed, not in this alcove, no matter how much I wish to.” 

“When?” she asked, her hands on either side of his neck, a thumb teasing his skin above his cravat. 

“As soon as we’re alone” he promised. 

“Is it rude to ask them all to leave?” she laughed softly, her cheeks the most delightful shade of pink. 

“Absolutely not” he couldn’t help but smirk. 

They returned to the party, only to find that the others were preparing to leave. She glanced to Olenna who gave her a wink, The Mother of course, knowing exactly what the newlywed pair had been up to.

Sansa stayed at Stannis side, her legs still weak from his kisses and her body on the verge of bursting into flames. Whatever he had done to her in the hall, she wanted more, so much more. 

Joanna had explained to her, in rather too much depth, what to expect tonight. While she didn’t want to know the intricacies of The Warrior’s marriage, she was grateful to have an idea of what the marriage bed entailed. 

She found herself imagining if Stannis’ body was as strong as it felt through his formalwear. If his broad shoulders and chest were as solid as they seemed. Of course, The Stranger was no stranger to war and battle, his body would reflect that. But her own body, pale and soft, seemed a contrast to his solid frame, and she wondered what it would feel like to be fitted together. 

She did her best to be polite and keep her thoughts from Stannis’ body as they bid goodnights and farewells, the others departing through portals to their own realms. 

“Congratulations, my dear” Yohn squeezed her hands. “Welcome home.” 

“Thank you” she smiled, hugging both him and Olenna. 

“We look forward to getting to know you, dearest” Olenna pat Sansa’s cheek softly before looping her hand through Yohn’s arm, and then they disappeared through their own portal. 

She turned to see Tywin and Stannis speaking quietly, shaking hands and she looked to Joanna. 

“Would you come and see me? Tomorrow or---maybe the day after?” Sansa asked Joanna as she embraced her. Joanna had quickly become Sansa’s closest friend and confidant, the woman’s quiet strength helping Sansa to get through this new transition in her life.

“Of course” Joanna agreed. “We have music lessons to begin.”

“I cannot wait” Sansa smiled, bidding woman farewell. 

With the departure of The Warrior and Joanna, Sansa found herself alone with her husband in the foyer of their home. _Home_. Strong arms slid around her waist and she leaned back against his strength. 

His chin rested upon her shoulder and she leaned her head against his, “Stannis, my husband.” 

“Wife” he whispered. 

“Take me to bed” she asked. 

“With pleasure” he replied, lifting her against his chest with an arm under her knees and at her shoulders. She laughed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he carried her up the grand staircase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picsets area viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187455491311/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/) and [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187499669246/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/)


	9. Part 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wedding night, all aboard the smut train, woot woot!
> 
> HERE, TAKE A NEW PICSET! <3  
New picset is viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187569691021/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/)

Sansa clung to his shoulders as he carried her up the staircase to their bedroom. Not the room she had been using since her arrival, but the master’s chambers. Their chambers. Their lives were joined now, their souls bound together in the eyes of The Seven and in a matter of minutes he would be able to claim her for his own. 

Stepping into the master’s chambers he set her on her feet, turning to close and lock the door behind him. Similar to her own rooms, the master’s chambers was all red and black, a great bed dominating the space. The dark wooden frame nearly reached the vaulted ceiling, black bed curtains hanging at all sides of the canopy. 

Along the far wall was a mural, a recreation from The Church of The Stranger in Braavos where they worshipped the God of Death. The scene depicted the red-clad reaper riding his horse of bones into battle, the great pack of hellhounds behind him. Beneath it was a row of red tapers, all spilling their light into the room. 

Returning to her, he found her facing him with a serene smile on her face. 

“Husband” she said. “You promised to take me as soon as we were alone.” 

“I did” he reached out to brush his fingers along the slender column of her throat, trailing to her collarbone and then the upper swell of her breasts. “You are the most beautiful being that I have ever seen” he moved closer, his great height towering over her. “Joanna spoke with you?”

Sansa nodded, “She did.”

“Are you afraid?” 

“No” she replied without pause. 

“Good” he slid his arm around her, fingers tangling into the laces of her gown as he pulled her closer. “I would never hurt you” he promised. “But I am going to make love to you, Sansa. I will make you my wife in all ways.” 

“That is all I want” Sansa assured him as he leaned down to kiss her. 

They picked up where they had left off in the dark alcove, hungry and desperate for each other. Sansa’s hands held to his neck as he worked the laces at the back of her gown, pulling them free until patience was lost and he simply snapped the ribbons in frustration. 

She whimpered, her tongue swiping across his lower lip as he pulled her gown free, working it to her waist where it caught on her bustle and when he was ready to rip those ties too, Sansa pulled back. 

“Let me” she said, untying the bustle and her petticoats, sending the fabric to her feet. Her dress held no room for a shift, so now she was only in a pale pink corset and stockings, tied with ribbon garters. 

He lifted her free of the pile of fabric, carrying her towards the bed. Her shoes hit the floor with identical ‘plops’, and as he lay her across the deep black counterpane, her skin seemed to glow like moonlight against the fabric. 

Standing back, he drank in every detail of her, from her fiery hair to the fiery curls at the apex of her thighs, she was a goddess.

“Stannis” she whispered.

Casting aside his jacket he all but tore at his cravat and waistcoat until he was in his shirtsleeves and trousers. He joined her on the bed, stretching out beside her to resume their passionate kisses. 

He ran a hand down her arm to her hip and then across her bare thigh, the skin as soft as silk beneath his touch. Reversing his path he moved up her thigh and to its inner curve, ghosting across her core. 

Her blunted fingernails dug into his scalp as she clung to him and he knew that she was as desperate as he was. 

“Beautiful” he moved away from her lips, finally allowing himself to travel across her pale flesh to the valley of her breasts. With a strong grip he uncouple the busks of her corset, freeing her breasts, the flesh spilling free before him. 

“Stannis!” she gasped as he worshipped her flesh, suckling, licking and nibbling her nipples until they were a deep rosy pink, begging for attention. 

“Your breasts are perfection” he threw her corset across the room, uncaring where it landed, leaving her only in her garters. “Perfection” he repeated, licking his way down her abdomen and to the curve of her hip. Everything about her was soft and silky, a balm against his battered soul. 

He could feel her heart speed in his chest and when he moved to part her thighs it raced in truth. She was already wet, her rich auburn curls glistening in the candlelight. The lips of her cunt were swollen and the same dusky pink as her nipples. Her body wept for him and he would not deny her. 

He started slow, with tentative licks and a cool breath across her heated bundle of nerves. When she writhed against the mattress he took her things and held them wide, falling upon her like a man starved. He gave into his baser instinct, devouring her with noisy slurps and groans as she soaked his beard with her juices. 

Her hands had threaded into his short hair, holding fast as she cried and then screamed in pleasure. He felt her body reach its peak, inner muscles pulsing rhythmically against his face. 

But he did not relent. He kept at it, and when her hands tried to pull him away from her over sensitive flesh, he took her hands from his head and held them pinned to the mattress. He could have spent days feasting upon her, savouring her taste and the sounds she made as she squeezed his hands. When she came a second time, her cum spilling freely as she screamed his name, he truly felt like a God. 

When he pulled back, her entire body was flushed with desire, her pussy soaked with beard rash on her inner thigh. As she panted for breath he pulled his shirt off, wiping his face and beard with the fabric, discarding his trousers and small clothes before moving back to her. 

He reached out, running his fingers through her soaked folds to circle her clit, the nub swollen and hot. 

“Stannis” she sobbed as he stroked her. 

“One more” he whispered, leaning on an elbow over her as his other hand teased her. 

“No” she pleaded. 

“Yes” he countered. “One more and I will give you what you want.”

“I want you” she begged. 

“And I want you to come” he sped his fingers, her cries escalating as he worked her. 

“No, no, no, no, no----yes, yes Stannis” she screamed, arching clear off the bed as he pushed her over the edge once more. 

His cock was rock hard now, the tip leaking and his control frayed. He had waited thousands of years for her, and he would finally have her. 

When she went limp and boneless he moved over her, spreading her legs wide and guiding his cock to her channel. He rubbed himself against her, slapping against her clit several times before he found her opening and slid the tip inside. 

“Sansa” he instructed. “Look at me” he said and she obeyed. “Hold my shoulders” he told her and she lifted limp arms to hold him. He watched her eyes, her face as he adjusted his hips and slid home. Her body was so relaxed he slid through her barrier without resistance, her eyes went wide then snapped shut, and then he was buried inside of her to the hilt. 

“Oh” she gasped, hands tightening on his shoulders. 

“Breathe” he whispered, reaching to her thigh and lifting her leg high on his waist. 

“Oh---ow” she screamed, contorting underneath him. “Stannis---”

“Shh” he soothed, holding as still as possible. He was so deep within her, he could feel the wall of her womb pressing back against him. Her inner muscles had clamped in protest of the invasion, pushing him dangerously close to coming far too soon. “Breathe” he repeated and she gave a small nod, taking a few deep breaths. “Look at me, Sansa.”

Sansa forced herself to open her eyes and look up at her husband. She felt the tear of her maidenhead acutely, her entire body wanting nothing more than to roll away from his penetration. 

The extreme pleasure she had felt at his mouth and hands, was nearly forgotten now as her body stretched to accommodate his. In her mind, she knew that it was done, after this there would be no more pain, but in this moment she felt as if he had torn her apart. 

Joanna had warned her, told her that they had married Gods, these men were no measly mortals and that their husbands would possess every inch of them that they could. Joanna had not lied. 

Of course, Joanna also hadn’t mentioned the way a man could use his mouth to devour her most intimate place, bringing her to pleasure three times. Perhaps that was a conversation better left unhad. 

Stannis deep voice was speaking softly, soothing her as best he could and she focused on that, looking up into his nearly black eyes. 

“My darling” he said softly. 

“It hurts” she whispered. 

“I know, and I am sorry” he kissed her softly. “We can stop--”

“No” she protested, tightening her hands on his shoulders. “I want to be yours, Stannis. Just give me a few moments…”

“Of course” he peppered her lips with soft kisses, reassuring her without words that he would never hurt her. 

Minutes passed and she felt the sharp pain ease, discomfort taking over and she ran a hand down his back to grip the muscle of his ass, “Alright.”

“Alright” he said softly, withdrawing and then sinking back into her. 

“Oh” she gasped at the sensation. Each time he moved back, filling her she gasped, shocked at how much of him seemed to sink into her body. At how it felt to be so filled with his being that she was near to bursting.

“You are perfection” he groaned as he moved over her. She clung to his back and the curve of his ass, feeling the play of muscles and the barely reined control. This God, her husband and the God of Death, was nothing more than a panting, growling man as he took her. He was a man at the mercy of pleasure, pleasure he found with her. 

There was no violence to his passion, no pain and no fear. But there was pleasure, lust and affection, she could see it in his eyes. It was there, plain as day for any to see, the love he held for her. It was in his worship of her, ensuring her satisfaction before seeing to his duty. He was the God of Death, yes, but he was, at the core, a man who cared. 

He took her for what seemed like hours, the pain of his invasion fading away and then she was whimpering and clawing at his back as his mouth took hers in sloppy passion. 

Warmth began to spread through her, his body fucking hers impossibly hard and fast, the great canopy bed shaking with his thrusts. The coil of warmth spread, growing within her chest until she felt as if she could barely breathe. It was suffocating and liberating, terrifying and satisfying, her body shaking violently as he pushed her towards another peak. 

“Stannis” she cried out, twisting against him and then she was coming, screaming as heat exploded in her chest. She heard Stannis’ own roar of climax, felt him pulse and shake inside of her, coating her with his essence. She looked into his deep eyes as the heat consumed her, pulling her under and into a tide of darkness. 

Davos woke at dawn after very little sleep. Pushing to his feet he washed his face in the basin before dressing in a daze. The Stranger, he assumed, would stay abed into the late morning, after keeping his new bride up so late. 

Davos grimaced as he remembered the sound of Sansa’s screams echoing in the estate. There was no mistaking that The Stranger was a man who ensured his wife’s pleasure. 

Once dressed he made his way to the kitchen and saw to his small breakfast of cold meat and some cheese, chewing as he made his way to the library. However, when he crossed in front of the solarium, his feet stopped moving. 

He stared, incredibly confused, at the sight of the green vines pressing against the glass doors to the house. Vines that had not been there last night during the bonding ceremony. 

Moving quickly he ducked out the side entrance of the estate and took in the solarium from the outside. All of it, every inch of glass, was filled with greenery. Turning he looked to the woods and found the same result. Vines, leaves, trees and flowers filled the horizon, everything seeming to teem with _Life_. 

“Gods” he muttered, staggering back and falling to his ass in the grass. He sat, unable to move as he watched the vines grow before his very eyes, pressing against the glass and reaching for the sun. 

Turning his head he looked to the balcony of The Strangers room. Last night they had wed, bonded and then…

Sansa’s gifts had unlocked, he deduced. Life had come to the realm of The Stranger. Figuratively and literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! :D


	10. Part 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with me, here...a new picset! <3
> 
> Picsets are viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187455491311/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/), [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187499669246/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/) and [THERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187569691021/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/) and a NEW one [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187609728006/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/)

“It is done” one of The Children declared into the vacant night air. 

“She is his” another said. 

Roose did not understand how they knew until he turned to see stars falling across the sky. Their bright lights shot across the darkness, newer, younger stars coming to life in their wake. 

“Can we kill her?” Roose asked. 

“With this” another Child said, carrying forward a twisted blade as black as the night above them. It looked to be made of bone, the hilt still a light tan, but the blade was gnarled, jagged and sharp. 

“What is this?” he asked. 

“All that remains of our Night King” the Child said. “Ash forged by the fury of The Stranger himself and carved to precise geometric balance.”

Roose felt a smile pull at his lips, “Perfect.” 

"But be warned---"

For Sansa, the world seemed to return to her in stages. Sound. Smell. Sight. 

Everything around her seemed so much more acute, so much more _real_. It was as if she had been living in a dream, with a veil over her and now it was gone. She felt more awake, more alive than she ever had. 

Knowledge seemed to whirl through her brain, some of it making sense but most of it held no context or explanation. Trying to make sense of it all was giving her a headache, so instead she pushed it all away.

She focused on the sound of Stannis’ breathing beside her. The soft, subtle reminder that she was a woman wed, her husband sleeping soundly beside her. Moving slightly she could feel his body against her back, broad and strong, his warmth surrounding her.

Then the rich smell of flowers, sweet and fragrant, mixed with Stannis’ scent and the musk of their repeated coupling throughout the night. They had turned to each other in the night, sharing deep kisses and soft caresses that soon melted into passion.

Forcing her eyes open, she looked around the master’s chambers, seeing that the morning light had flooded the room with sunshine. She turned to see Stannis stretched out beside her, his long, lean form still nude and positively sinful in the early light. 

His face, normally imposing and stoic, was relaxed in sleep, lips slightly parted and brown free of furrows. He looked at peace, she realized, for the first time since he had appeared in her dreams, he was at peace. 

The muscles of his chest and shoulders looked as lovely as they had felt, which had her cheeks flushing in memory of the way she’d clung to him, throughout the night. 

She smiled as she watched him. Joanna had been right, their husbands were Gods, no measly men. Stannis had made love to her with passion she would never have expected from The Stranger, and with a gentle tenderness that every maiden dreams of on their wedding night. 

Turning back to the room she noticed that the light from the window was dappled, obscured but she couldn’t tell from what. Curious she slowly moved from bed, uncaring of her nudity as she crossed to the large bay windows. 

“Oh” she gasped as she looked across the gardens and solarium, all of them overgrown. Even the statues in the outdoor garden seems to be struggling to stay free of the vines and flowers. Wisteria flowers hung from everywhere, the rich purple blooms floating like clouds among the vines. 

She heard Stannis’ steps behind her a second before his arms slid around her waist. “That is you, my darling.” 

“Me?” she marvelled. 

“The Goddess of Life” he moved the weight of her hair to the side to kiss her bare shoulder. “You’re a Goddess in truth now, the realm reaches out to welcome you.” 

“The flowers are beautiful” she sighed as he kissed her neck, his hands wandering her stomach, barely grazing her breasts. “Stannis…”

“Your gifts will manifest soon, but I suspect they already have in the flowers” he nuzzled just below her ear. “You are so incredibly beautiful in the morning light.”

“Stannis?”

“Hmm?” he mumbled too busy trailing kisses across her neck and shoulder. 

“Take me back to bed” she asked with a smile and he had her in his arms in an instant, carrying her back to their large canopy bed. She laughed as they fell to the mattress, his lips finding hers as she curled against him. 

His touch had awakened a new hunger within her blood, a desire to be surrounded by him at all times. To--

“Oh Gods” she sighed as his mouth moved to worship her breasts, strong hands holding them together so he could lap at them both at the same time. She held to his short hair and shoulders as he teased her, writhing and panting beneath him. “Stannis---please.” He began to move lower but she caught his arm, “No” she smiled, guiding back up and over her. “I need you, just you inside me.” 

His smile was devastating as he kissed her softly before rolling her to her knees, her upper body braced on her elbows. She felt his fingers at her core, sliding easily through the moisture there before teasing her with the blunt head of his cock. 

Then he was pushing inside of her, filling her from behind for the first time, “Sansa” he sighed her name like a prayer as she whimpered into the counterpane. She felt impossibly full, her body pulled tight around his. She was grateful for her ascension into the pantheon of gods, otherwise she would have been too sore to take him this way. 

His first thrust was like magic, pleasure ricocheting through her as he hit something inside of her that had her crying out. Again and again, he moved, hitting that spot over and over until she was a screaming mess. 

Her hands were fisted, twisting in the blankets and her hips moved backwards unbidden, increasing the force of his thrusts. One hand held her hip but the other smoothed over her spine, his touch reverent and soft, a contrast to the brutal pace at which he was taking her. 

Resting her cheek on the blankets she could see Stannis’ form behind her, large and powerful as he moved with singular determination. She watched him, the pleasure on his face and the clench of his jaw, the way his facade had melted away and he was a being of pleasure, not death, at her touch. 

When the hand on his back moved around to her folds, rubbing her bundle of nerves with a firm touch, she lost control, screaming into the room as she came violently around him. His growl followed, his movements rough and jerky until she felt him pulsing inside of her, filling her until their juices ran down her thigh. 

They fell to their sides, his arms banding around her as he nuzzled her neck, both trembling with aftershocks. 

“There is something I need to talk with you about” Stannis’ said in a serious tone many hours later. 

“Hmm?” Sansa looked up at him from where she lay across his chest. 

“Tomorrow I am going to the human realm to bring back a man who would be your sworn shield, if you would have him” he told her. 

“Who?” she frowned. 

“Sandor Clegane, though you would know him as the Guardian---”

“No---” she sat up so abruptly that the blanket fell away and he was admittedly, momentarily distracted by her bare breasts. 

“Sansa, I want you to think back, back to Sanctuary and his behavior” he prompted. “Sandor is a follower of The Stranger, of mine, not of the Headmaster. He was trying to protect you, to ensure that you chose the right path…”

“He told me, that day you came for me, to choose you” she said softly, her face falling into a frown.

“He knew how important you were” Stannis said. “He came to Sanctuary to protect you. Each time they hurt you, did he ever raise a hand to you?” 

“No” she shook her head. “He would carry me back...would make me eat, drink water when I tried to…”

His chest ached at the reminder of how miserable she had been in the care of those he had trusted, “Taking you from the walls of the Sanctuary would have meant an unending manhunt, so he did what he could for you. The Father knew this, and now I know this.” 

She frowned, looking to the mural on the wall for several minutes before she turned back to him, “Alright” she said softly. “I will...I will speak with him when he arrives.” 

It wasn’t a promise that she would accept Sandor’s fealty, but he could accept that. Guiding his wife back into his arms, he held her in the silence of their rooms for several minutes until Sansa spoke once more. 

“I am going to help Joanna and Tywin” Sansa said. 

“With what?” Stannis frowned. 

“A baby” she whispered. 

He felt his love for her in his soul grow, deepen, “If anyone can help them, it is you, my darling.” 

“I will, I am determined” she placed a kiss over his heart. “I love that I can feel it--that your heart beats with mine” she laid her head on his chest, her finger tapping in time to their heartbeats. 

He smiled, feeling her heart beating with his own, to know that she was here with him, his wife and his balance, was paradise. Absently he ran his hand through her hair, smoothing the wild locks, more content in this moment than he had been in his entire existence.

Sandor Clegane, second son of House Clegane and devoted follower of The Stranger, sat in ‘The Last Drop’ pub, glaring at an untouched glass of Dornish red. He’d been coming here every night for a sennight. Ordering a glass of wine and taking up residence in the back booth to wait. 

Waiting on The Stranger, he scoffed. Buggering Hells. 

He’d spent his entire life at war, it seemed. Fighting for one cause or another. Sometimes fighting just for the fuck of it. He never fancied himself a good man, nor a particularly polite one, but he did his best to serve his God of Death. 

He’d tried to do his best, though his hands were tied, to protect the beautiful girl--woman, who was trapped with the corrupt Headmaster Baelish. The Girl had done her best, chirping back her instructors words like a beautiful little bird. Each one firing his rage at their behavior. 

He could not reveal his loyalties, even to others who claimed to follow The Stranger. He knew their truths, that they were filthy liars, betrayers and they would be punished. 

Hells, he had run the Elder Sister through himself when the old cunt tried to stop him from getting to Sansa that final day. In the end, he hadn’t been fast enough, arriving to find Baelish speaking with the newcomer about the Girl leaving with The Stranger. 

Good, he’d thought. She was safe. 

He left Sanctuary that night, heading back into town and finding a Sept, lighting a red candle to let The Stranger know he was ready should they have need of him once more. 

And so, he waited.

The door opened and he sat up straighter in his seat. That was him, it had to be, no other man would be so imposing, so large that he had to duck through the doorway to enter. 

Sandor watched the man’s eyes rake over the room, a slight grimace on his face at the sight of bawdy revelry filling the pub. When the man’s eyes settled on him, Sandor knew he was looking back into the eyes of The Stranger. 

He wore all black, from his hat to his boots, the only ounce of color on his clothing was a pin on his cravat, a sigil of scales that Sandor would recognize anywhere. 

He moved with deadly silence, removing his stovepipe hat and gloves as he did so. Few stopped to notice him, but those who did scurried out of his path as if the Devil himself were on their tails. 

“Sandor Clegane” his deep voice addressed him without a spec of emotion. 

“Your Grace” Sandor made to stand but The Stranger stayed him with a raise of his hand before sinking into the chair opposite him. 

“I have need of a good man” The Stranger said. 

“I cannot pretend that I am a good man, not even for Your Grace” Sandor said gruffly. 

“Then I am in need of a man who will protect her” The Stranger countered. “That will swear his life and service to her, and keep her safe when I cannot.”

“Protect ...protect the Girl?” Sandor swallowed, realizing the enormity of what The Stranger had asked. 

“Her name is Sansa,” The Stranger said. “And she, my wife, is the Goddess of Life.” 

“Death would have me serve Life” he chuckled. 

“What are men but slaves to both?” The Stranger countered. “Bolton is coming for her. I left her in the care of The Warrior today, but she needs a sworn man, a shield and sword.”

“That Bolton cunt” Sandor grimaced, the scars on the right side of his face pulling tight. 

“Indeed” The Stranger sneered. “He is with the Old Gods, Clegane. He will not stop.” 

“Aye, I’ll do it” Sandor gave a nod, grabbing his cup of wine. “Suppose this’ll be my last drink” he said and The Stranger nodded. “To Life” Sandor raised the cup and finished it in one go. 

“To Life” The Stranger said with a raised brow as Sandor felt the world around him go black.


	11. Part 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the love!! I am over the moon that you love this story so much!!

Sansa had kissed Stannis goodbye, knowing that he would only be away to bring back Sandor Clegane. The Guardian. 

She had many things she wanted to ask Sandor, many things that she wanted to know. She had promised Stannis that she would speak to him, and she would do that before she accepted any vows of fealty.

However, as nervous as she was about Sandor, she was even more nervous about speaking with Joanna. 

All of this knowledge that had been swirling through her brain since she woke up a sennight ago, it was overwhelming but she knew somewhere in there was the key to unlocking Joanna’s fertility. The Mother had told her that she would know what to do when the time came, she just had to trust herself. 

Now, she just had to trust herself. 

Tywin excused himself to the library, leaving Sansa and Joanna to walk, arm in arm, to the solarium. Though still overgrown, the servants and gardeners had managed to tame the foliage and make the glass garden habitable once more. 

“You’re looking well” Joanna smiled as they sat beside each other on a large stone bench. “It seems married life suits you as well as it did this garden.”

“I fear it was quite overgrown” Sansa felt her cheeks warm. “My fault, I believe.”

“Well, you _are_ the Goddess of Life” Joanna reasoned. 

“I am” Sansa nodded, taking a deep breath. “I am the Goddess of Life” she repeated and turned to her closest friend, taking Joanna’s hand. This time, the warmth she had felt on the woman’s skin was so much more. Sansa could feel Joanna’s very soul. 

She realized that she hadn’t touched another since she wed. She was connected to Stannis, could feel his heart beating in her chest, but now with Joanna’s hand in hers, she could feel the life moving through her. 

“Are you well?” Joanna frowned slightly. 

“I am the Goddess of Life” she said softly. “Though, I confess, I do not know what that truly means. But if I can give life to plants, to the realm of the dead, why can I not give it to my dearest friend?”

“Sansa” Joanna gasped. 

“I know, more than anything in the realms, that you want to be a mother” Sansa brought Joanna’s hand to her lips, placing a soft kiss on the mount of Venus at the base of her thumb before pressing her friend’s hand to her cheek. Sansa’s eyes drifted closed and she focused on Joanna’s life flow, letting instinct lead her. 

She felt the flow of life, heard the beat of Joanna’s heart and listened to the rhythm of her friend’s body. As she focused, the flow seemed to thrum, golden and glittering in the eye of her mind. She watched it, twist and wind its way through the aether and then she saw the break...a broken connection in the flow around Joanna. 

Focusing on it, she pushed life into the golden ribbon, watching as the pieces grew together, melding into one. It grew brighter then, almost too bright to look at and Sansa pulled away, opening her eyes. 

Joanna was watching her with curious emerald eyes, eyes filled with tears. 

Slowly, Sansa lowered Joanna’s hand from her cheek, eventually releasing it, “It’s...It’s done.”

“I can--” Joanna choked on a sob. 

“You can” Sansa smiled. 

“I’m sorry, I have to-- I mean” Joanna laughed, wiping her eyes. 

“Go” Sansa encouraged. “Find your Warrior.” 

“Thank you” Joanna hugged her quickly and then was running, a flurry of skirts as she ran into the house to find Tywin. 

Sansa sat on the bench for sometime, eyes drifting closed as she allowed herself to sink into the life all around her. 

She had grown even more beautiful since he last saw her. Happiness, he supposed, would do that to any being. 

She sat, pretty as a little bird among the flowers, clad in a diaphanous gown of white lace. Her hair was piled atop her head, a crown of blood red roses nestled within the curls. The Goddess of Life, The Stranger had called her, and Sandor could easily see the way she seemed to glow with it. Even the flowers and vines seemed to be reaching for her.

The last time he had seen her, he had been forcing her into a gown of red, the terror in her eyes gutting him as she screamed. He knew she was afraid, but he also knew that The Stranger would take care of her, protect her. 

Glancing to the man at his side, he chuckled, not accustomed to being the shorter man in the room. The Stranger's large form had hauled him from the bar, as if he was no bigger than a child, and when Sandor woke, he was standing in the realm of The Stranger, face to face with spectral hellhounds. 

The Stranger, he noticed, was also watching the Girl--Sansa, a very small smile on his lips. Clearly the man was besotted with her, in love he’d dare say. 

“Give me one moment” The Stranger stated, crossing the solarium to sit beside his wife. 

Sandor had seen her cry, seen her beg and scream in pain, had even seen her naked, but he had never seen her smile. It was devastating in its beauty. The moment her eyes opened to see The Stranger, she smiled brightly, her entire face transforming as she kissed her husband.

Sandor turned away, looking over the plants and statues that seemed to be half-hidden within the flowers. He could hear them softly speaking, but couldn’t make out the words. 

“Clegane” The Stranger called and Sandor turned to see the other man had stood and Sansa was watching him with caution in her eyes. He approached, surprised when Sansa motioned to the bench beside her. 

“Please sit” she said, The Stranger standing beside her, his hand on her back. He sank to the stone a proper distance away, his frame feeling bulky beside her but dwarfed by the imposing God watching over them. “I have known you nearly my entire life, and yet I only recently learned your name. Hello Sandor.”

He nodded, “And I only learned yours hours ago. Hello Sansa.”

“Stannis tells me that you were not a follower of Headmaster Baelish’s teachings,” she said. “Then why go to Sanctuary at all?” 

“I suppose the easiest way to explain it would be that The Father sent me” Sandor said. “Divine intervention brought me to its doors. I was an angry man of twenty, fresh from war and lost, The Father gave me a purpose in my service of The Stranger. Entering the gates there you were, a little girl crying and no one dared touch you. You were just as alone as I was, though you were surrounded by people. From that day, I did all I could to spare you any pain. I failed you many times, but I never stopped.”

“You tried to tell me, that final day,” she said, her eyes no longer guarded. 

“I should have killed that fucker, Baelish” Sandor shook his head. “With the Sisters in the room I couldn’t tell you that it was a trap, I tried..”

“I know” Sansa nodded, reaching to her shoulder to touch The Stranger’s hand. “Is it your wish to stay? To live in service of The Stranger?”

“Every man needs a purpose” Sandor said. “Protecting you has always been mine. I don’t have a family, my psychotic brother aside, and no home to speak of. I would continue to serve you. If you will have me.”

“This will be your home, I will take you as my sworn man, Sandor Clegane” she smiled, though not the heart-stopping smile she reserved for her husband. “Are Tywin and Joanna still here?” Sansa asked The Stranger. 

“Yes, they were rather occupied when we arrived” The Stranger said and Sansa laughed. 

“My fault, I suppose” she said, cheeks flushed. 

“Just so” The Stranger nodded. “When they’re ready, we can bring Sandor up to date on Bolton’s movement and the fight to come.”

“Alright” Sansa agreed, her eyes darting over his shoulder and Sandor turned to see one of the spectral wolves as it paced along the outside of the solarium. “What…” she looked to The Stranger. “What is that?”

“A direwolf, or, it was one once” Stannis explained, realizing that in the sennight since the packs return he had been so caught up in their bonding and marriage bed, that he had forgotten to introduce Sansa to them. “Come” he offered his hand and she took it, allowing him to lead her outside where the pack waited. 

“Oh” Sansa gasped as she looked up into Cerberus’ ghostly eyes. 

“Cerberus” Stannis introduced the great hellhound. “He was the first of the hellhounds, my companion for many years.”

“What..what happened?”

“The Night King” Stannis explained. “When their bodies fell in battle, their souls returned here, returned home.” He watched as Sansa moved closer to Cerberus, the hound watching her as she reached out to touch his muzzle. 

The hound whined, but did not move as her hand settled against him. Sansa’s eyes, previously wide with curiosity, fell closed and her breathing evened out. Stannis watched her in confusion, Sandor looking equally confused beyond her. 

Her fingers twitched and then….

“Buggering hells” Sandor choked out but Stannis could not form words. 

From her touch, capillaries began to fill, spreading into Cerberus’ spectral body. Capillaries became veins, and then arteries; all of them filling with blood that began to rush through his system. Circular system in place, nerves moved in, splintering through the hound until muscle was rapidly coating everything. The once spectral hound seemed to be regenerating before their eyes.

Another whine from cerberus echoed and then he was whole, sinister black fur reborn and blowing in the slight breeze. He nuzzled then licked Sansa’s hand, her eyes opening to meet the hounds red gaze. 

“Hello Cerberus” she whispered and he yipped in response. 

“Sansa” Stannis marvelled, moving to her side. When he reached her, Cerberus butted him with his nose, his excitement clear. “Hello, old boy” he sank his hand into the thick fur, feeling its warmth for the first time in a very long time.

“I think” Sansa leaned against him. “I will eat lunch first, and then see to the others.”

Stannis wrapped an arm around her, helping her to stay on her feet. Though she was a Goddess, such gifts were new to her and she had clearly tired herself out. 

“Come” Stannis helped her into the house, Sandor following behind as they made for the kitchen. 

“Stannis” Tywin called and he reluctantly turned away from the balcony. He had been watching Sansa below on the beach, walking with Joanna as the pack played around them in the sand and waves. 

After Cerberus, the other’s seemed to go quicker, their bodies not quite as large or old. Sansa was able to breath life back into the pack with a mere touch, everyone in the house watching her as we she worked. 

One of the youngest direwolves had taken a particular shine to Sansa, and now she followed her everywhere, sticking close to her mistress's skirt. Sansa named her ‘Lady’, and Stannis was fairly certain that the wolf would be living indoors from now on. 

Moving into the library, he was grateful that Tywin had at least straightened up after he’d taken Joanna on Stannis’ very old, very ornate desk. He had been surprised to hear them when he brought Sandor back through the portal. But his horror passed when he realized that Sansa must have been able to figure out how to help Joanna. He could not blame them for being unable to wait, not after several thousand years of marriage. 

Davos and Sandor were joined by Tywin’s sworn man Addam, all of them gathering around the table of maps and letters. 

“Many years ago, Roose Bolton was King in the North” Stannis explained to Sandor. “For his cruelty and his sins, he was cast into the Seventh Hell upon the occasion of his death. With the help of the Old Gods, he escaped and now they are working together to hunt Sansa. They seek vengeance for the wrongs they believe I have committed against them, and the surest way to destroy me, is by killing her.” 

“Destroy? Or kill?” Sandor asked. 

“Both” Stannis replied. “We are bound, our hearts beating together. Should hers stop, mine would as well but my body would continue for a short time, bleeding fury into the world until it ceased to be.” 

“Right” Sandor nodded. 

“For all their insanity, The Children of the Forest will be able to make a weapon to harm her” Tywin added. “A blade, likely, knowing Roose’s tendre for flaying his enemies.”

“Messy business” Davos scoffed. 

“But effective nonetheless” Tywin countered. 

“Is he mortal?” Sandor asked. 

“Yes, as far as we know” Stannis grimaced. “They made the Night King, I can’t imagine what else they could do.”

“The benefit of it being a Bolton man is that he would not survive what a Targaryen could” Tywin said. 

“Small favors” Addam quipped. 

“So, we wait” Stannis glared at the maps. 

“Or you take the fight to him” Sandor suggested. “He wouldn’t expect us to be waiting for him when he crosses into the realm of men.”

“No” Tywin smirked. “He would not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picsets are viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187455491311/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/), [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187499669246/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/) and [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187569691021/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/) and [THERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187609728006/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/)


	12. Part 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the delay in updating, real life has been challenging and overwhelming. 
> 
> That being said, I will make it up to you with this new picset [YAY](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187746976441/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/)

The men stared at the pawns on the map table, solidifying their plans to meet Roose Bolton and any army that he may have. 

Stannis stared intently at the pawns of his army, knowing that once unleashed, the army of The Stranger would not stop until their thirst for violence was sated. 

A side-effect, of course, of an army built on the undead. When eligible men reached the realm of Hells, they were given an option; to accept their punishment or to serve, their souls bound to the duty of the realm. When called they would answer, when asked to fight they would do so until their souls were cleaved from their body. 

Unlike the army of The Warrior, who wore gleaming black and golden armor, those who fought for The Stranger wore all black, their armor singed and twisted by the sins upon their shoulders. Soldiers from every era in time stood, shoulder to shoulder, in a united front, all carrying out Death’s explicit orders. 

Thus, his army was vast and intimidating, unflinching souls who know no bounds for violence. 

As they finalized their plans, Davos was sending word to the commander of the army, telling the men to prepare themselves. War had finally come. 

“Sandor, you will remain here” Stannis ordered. “I will leave a battalion with you, should you have need of them.”

“Is there…” Sandor pauses. “Your Grace, My unit, from Crimea…”

Stannis nodded, remembering the fall of Clegane’s legendary cavalry unit well, “You’ll have them.”

“Thank you,” Sandor bowed his head. 

“I will also be leaving a battalion with Joanna” Tywin added. “She will remain in my realm, on lockdown.”

“Understood” Stannis replied, adjusting several pawns. “We will wait here and here, though it is possible they could tear into the realm anywhere in the vicinity.”

“The Children of the Forest…” Tywin cleared his throat. “Do you think they will have the army of the dead?”

“It is possible” Stannis clenched his jaw. “They fell with the Night King but their power knows no bounds.”

“Dragonglass then” Addam reasoned, having lived through the last war with the dead. 

“It is best to be prepared” Stannis said. 

“I’ll see to it, Your Grace” Addam bowed his head.

“Fire” Tywin added and Stannis saw Sandor noticeably stiffen. It was best, perhaps, that Sandor would remain here with Sansa. “See to it that each unit is in possession of enough gunpowder to defend their end.”

“Of course, Your Grace” Addam replied. 

“We will destroy him” Tywin said as the air around them rippled and a portal opened, the Smith and his bride, Destruction, appeared, both ready for war. 

“You didn’t think we’d miss the fun, did you?” Arya smirked. 

Gendry held up a set of sinister black cuffs and chains, “As promised.”

“Perfect” Stannis ran his hand over the hot metal, surprised at the magic infused in the links. These would do perfectly, he couldn’t help but smirk. Perfectly. 

When Stannis entered the master’s chambers, he was surprised to find Sansa stretched out in the large bath, humming softly to herself as she relaxed. Lady was asleep on the window seat, curled up contentedly. He chuckled to himself, he knew that the wolf was going to end up Sansa’s pet. 

Shrugging out of his coat and the rest of his clothing, he crossed to the adjacent bathing room and joined Sansa, sinking into the hot water with her.

“Husband” she moved to his lap, snuggling against his chest. 

He wrapped his arms around her, “How are you feeling?”

“Tired but good” she replied. 

“You are incredible” he smoothed her damp hair from her face, kissing her forehead. “You have conquered even death.”

“I am not entire sure they were truly ‘dead’,” she frowned. “It was the same with Joanna, as if a sever had occurred in their life force. It took considerably more effort to repair them than her, but there was no decay…”

“Perhaps, the magic of the Night’s King kept them suspended between life and death, which was why they returned here” he reasoned. 

“Perhaps” she agreed, grabbing the sponge and turning to wash his chest. 

He relaxed under her touch, watching as she soaped and scrubbed him, her own skin rubbing against his in the most delicious way. 

His wife was a beauty, there was no denying that. The way the soft light played across her skin and the fire of her hair, she looked angelic. He had waited thousands of years for her, and every second had been worth it. 

He would have to leave her soon, against every instinct in his body, he would have to leave her behind and fight to protect her.

War, more than anything in this world, he abhorred war. The death and destruction is brought with it took a toll on him, wearing him down until he felt broken beyond repair. 

But he would endure it, he would endure anything for her safety. 

She dipped the sponge into the water once more, running it across is bare shoulder. It was when she leaned forward to kiss his collarbone that his resolve broke. 

“I will be leaving tomorrow” he could no longer hold back the words. As he spoke, her hand stilled on his chest. 

“What?”

“We are going to the edge of the realm of men, to be there when Roose crosses into it” he explained. “Sandor will remain with you, but we are--”

“Will you be safe?” she whispered. 

“This is war, Sansa” he cupped her face with both hands. “I will do what I must to keep you safe, to keep the world safe.”

She blinked back tears, “I cannot lose you, Stannis.”

“I will do everything in my power to come back to you,” he promised. 

“If you die, I will bring you back---”

“Sansa---”

“No--no” she shook her head, pulling away from his hands, tears running down her cheeks now. “If you fall, I will find you and I _will_ bring you back.” 

“If I fall, your heart will stop” he whispered, his own emotions raw and ragged. “My death will burn through you until you are consumed by grief…”

“I will find you” she promised. “We have so much to look forward to, so much more to do together.” 

“I know” he kissed her softly. 

“I’ve only just found you” she melted into his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck, the warm water lapping around them. 

Their soft kisses quickly heated, both of them desperate to feel each other, to claim each other. Carefully standing, he helped her from the bath, toweling them both quickly before carrying her to the bed. 

Her hands seemed to be everywhere, and when they wrapped around his length he growled in pleasure. His once-timid Sansa was a siren, knowing exactly how to tease and torment him. Wiggling beneath him she guided him to where she wanted him most, and with a single thrust of his hips he was buried inside of her. 

“Stannis” she gasped, clawing at his back as he sucked on the sensitive skin of her neck. He nibbled a trail across her flesh as their hips moved in tandem as they landed their pleasure. 

There was nothing in this world that could compare to Sansa. Around him, under him, with him, she was life, in all ways. She was _his_ life. 

They made love for hours, unable to get enough of each other and unwilling to spend their last hours together before his departure in slumber. 

_ She couldn’t breathe, suffocating as she clawed at the water around her. She felt something at her ankles, pulling her down but then there were vines, the greenery wrapping around her arms and pulling her free. _

_ The moment she broke the surface, she was gasping on each breath, coughing as she pushed water from her lungs. She lay curled on herself on the water’s surface, the vines wrapped around her body, cradling her, holding her afloat as she shivered. _

_ “If it isn’t Death’s Mistress” the sinister voice broke into her gasping and she opened her eyes to see the broad, imposing man on the lake shore. _

_She would not have recognized him if it weren’t for the flayed man emblazoned across his chest. Bolton...but how? _

_ “The Old Gods have many talents” he spoke, walking along the shoreline. He wore sinister brown armor, his hand resting on the blade at his side. “I wished to speak with you, they indulged me.”_

_ “Speak with me” she stood, the vines holding her on the surface of the water. She was hyper aware of her soaked thin white dress, the fabric clinging to her skin, transparent in a way that made her feel exposed. “What could you possibly have to speak with me about?” _

_ “You have the ability to end this” he began, his pale eyes cold as ice. “Come to me, Girl, and I will let The Seven live. For a time.”_

_ She watched him closely, the fact that he did not use her name was interesting. Perhaps, she thought, he did not know who she was. Who she truly was. She turned as he walked, following him with her eyes._

_ “If I come to you, you’ll kill me” she stated. _

_ “Eventually,” he shrugged. “But I think you’d come to enjoy our time together.”_

_ “Why are you doing this?” she couldn’t help but ask. _

_ “I have a debt to be paid” he said simply. “And you’re simply too beautiful to resist.” _

_ “Beauty is deceptive,” she said. _

_ “I will destroy them, Girl” Bolton glared now, his voice calm and hard. “You can either come to me and save them or be destroyed with them.” _

_ Determination soaked into her soul and she walked, the vines rushing to meet her steps as she strode to the shore, facing him directly. In the distance, she could hear clocks ticking, their rhythmic beat echoing in the woods marking each second as it passed._

_ “Beautiful” he whispered, eyes lingering on her soaked dress that revealed her nude form to him. _

_ “Come for me” she challenged. “You will find only destruction.” _

_ He reached out, closing the distance between them, his fingers tracing the curve of her breast, “Such beautiful flesh” he whispered and she felt her stomach roll. _

_ “I’m going to watch as the Hellhounds devour your body” she glared, unflinching. _

_ “The Stranger will watch as I pleasure myself with every inch of your body” he replied. “I may even flay the skin of your creamy thigh and pleasure myself in the cooling muscle.” _

_ From the corner of eye she could see the vines moving toward him, wrapping around his ankles and twining up his legs. _

_ “What…” he glanced to his legs with a glare but before she could react he growled in fury, drawing the jagged black blade from his waist and plunging it into her chest. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	13. Part 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the cliffhanger! I had to pause it there! 
> 
> <3 <3

“Why didn’t it kill her?!” Roose demanded, slamming the bone dagger onto the surface of the table. He had been so close, she was inches from him and the blade had not worked. 

He groaned, remembering the way the transparent fabric had clung to her body, revealing every porcelain inch of her to his eyes. The curve of her breast, the rosy flesh of her areola and the point of her nipples were emblazoned on his mind’s eye forever. And her core...Gods, he shook his head, if there was a more perfect woman, he had not seen her. The way her hair was vibrant and fiery everywhere---

“We warned you, Bolton” one of The Children began. “If they were bonded, then only a direct hit to her heart would kill her.”

“You must sever her tie to The Stranger at the same time you puncture her heart” another added.

“You missed” a third Child hissed and he fixed them with a glare. 

“I will not miss the next time” he assured them, running his fingers over the drying blood on the dagger. Raising his fingers to his lips, he tasted the metallic elixir of her blood, closing his eyes as he smiled. “Can you get my physical form into The Stanger’s realm?” he asked, opening his eyes to glare at The Children.

“Sansa!” Stannis yelled once more, shaking her in an attempt to wake her. She was screaming at the top of her lungs, thrashing in bed as she clawed at her chest. “Sansa!”

Davos and Sandor must have heard, because frantic knocking on the door sounded a second before the men entered, “Your Grace?” 

“I cannot wake her!” Stannis yelled, uncaring that they were only in their night clothes. As he spoke, Sansa choked, gagging and gasping for breath.

Sandor cursed, crossing to the fire where he paused only long enough to bend down and grab a hot coal with a gloved hand, carrying it back to the bed. Without hesitation, he grabbed Sansa’s wrist and turned it, pressing the hot coal to the inside of her forearm. 

She screamed, this time as she sat bolt upright, wide-eyed and panting heavily as tears poured down her face. 

Sandor moved away, tossing the coal back into the fire, grimacing at the flames with disgust. The action did not escape Stannis’ eyes. Sandor had braved fire to wake her, his devotion was beyond measure.

“He’s coming…” Sansa sobbed. “Oh Gods” she reached for the collar of her night gown, pulling it down just enough to show the bleeding wound on her chest. Like her forearm, the wound was already rapidly healing, but something had inflicted a wound intending to kill and it made Stannis’ blood boil. 

“What was it?” he asked. 

“A blade--dagger. Shorter than his forearm but jagged” she closed her eyes. “The handle was tan, but the blade was black, so black it seemed to be absent altogether.”

Stannis frowned deeply, “Tan?”

“Like...bone?” she shook her head. “It was all so odd.” 

“Bone?” Stannis paled, moving away from her and pacing to the fireplace. 

“Your Grace?” Davos prompted as Sandor poured Sansa a glass of water, handing it to her without a word. 

“They have made Bolton a weapon out of the ash of the Night King” Stannis said softly. “They have taken the ash left behind by Lightbringer and…”

“Stannis” Sansa moved from the bed but her legs gave out. Sandor caught her, helping her to her feet and making sure she was steady before she crossed to the fireplace. 

“They wish to destroy you with a weapon I had a hand in creating” he whispered. 

“No” Sansa shook her head, cupping his cheek. “You cannot shoulder this burden---”

“I burned him” he looked to his wife, wincing at the blood on her chest. “I cut him down and they seek their revenge, my darling.” 

“He doesn’t know” she said suddenly. “At the lake he only called me ‘Girl’, he did not know my name or that I was of The Mother and The Father. Stannis, he does not know.”

“Lake?” Davos interjected. 

“Yes” she turned to look at the sworn man. “It was large but still small enough to see every shore, with dark rocks in the middle and around it. There were vines...they seemed to follow me.” 

“Could it have been Styx?” Davos asked. 

Stannis paused, “The lake at its heart…”

“What does it mean?” Sansa asked. “The lake is here? In this realm?”

“Water connects every realm, Your Grace” Davos reasoned. 

“Its fluid, incorporeal form connects everything” Stannis added. “If he has used it to project here, they can use it to travel here. It would take considerable effort but--”

“But if you were to go to the realm of men and wait for him, he could simply walk in behind you” Sandor glared. 

“He cannot best The Stranger in single combat” Davos crossed to the mural on the wall, looking at the form in the ghastly red cape. “So why would he try?”

“Then we give him what he wants” Sansa said. “We let him come.” 

“Sansa” Stannis shook his head. “Absolutely not.” 

“We let him come and while he is here, we send men to burn every Godswood in the realm of men” she looked to the flames. “They use the trees to watch men, if they are blind, then they are powerless.”

“You would be declaring war on the Old Gods” Stannis stated. 

“Have they not already declared such?” Sansa countered. 

“She’s right” Sandor stated. “Blind them and they cannot see when you come for them.”

Stannis watched the flames for several moments before he looked to his sworn man, “Davos, gather The Seven.”

“Stannis” Sansa whispered, stilling his hand where it traced the red, angry scar on her chest. It was healing, but the scar from Roose’s blade still lingered. 

Stannis had been unable to pull his eyes from it as they dressed to meet the others. She could see the guilt in his deep blue eyes, see the worry and anger brewing in his mind. 

“I cannot--” he broke off, shaking his head. She flattened his hand over her heart, smoothing her fingers over the back. “I cannot lose you, Sansa. I will not.” 

“No, you will not” she assured him with a soft smile. “Roose overplayed his hand tonight. I have seen his blade and I have seen where he can access. We will be ready.”

“I love you” he said quietly. “Beyond measure and without reservation, I love you, my darling.” 

Sansa could have burst into tears at the joy she felt, hearing those words pass from his lips. She had known for some time that she loved her husband--was in love with her husband. Stannis was the echo of her heartbeat and the other half of her soul, a man that while she had been created for him, he had been equally made for her. 

His raw strength balanced her uncertainties, his darkness her light. He had said that she had conquered even Death, but she knew that it was only possible because of the strength of their bond and the power they shared. 

“I love you” she replied, moving closer. His hand slid to the side of her neck, cupping her flesh and her own hands rest against his unbuttoned waistcoat. She could feel his heart racing in her chest and it warmed her own heart. “I love you and I am not going to leave you. We will overcome this obstacle together and then we will move forward together. In hundreds of years we will look back, surrounded by our children, and know that this war has cemented our love, our bond.”

“Surrounded by our children” his smile shot straight through her. 

“You didn’t think we’d live an eternity and not have a dozen at least” she returned his smile. 

“As soon as Bolton is dead” he rested his forehead against hers. “The very hour, we’ll work on those children.”

“The very hour” she kissed him briefly before they resumed dressing to return below stairs. 

By the time Sansa and Stannis entered the great room, the whole of The Seven waited for them, all eyes turning to them as they joined. Sansa held fast to his arm, clad in a plain burgundy dress, her hair simply braided. It was, after all, the middle of the night. 

“What the Seven Hells is going on?” Tywin demanded. 

“Bolton attacked Sansa while she slept” Stannis replied, escorting Sansa into the room and to The Mother’s side. Sandor followed, standing vigil beside her with a cold expression on his twisted face.

“What?” The Father, Yohn, demanded. 

“In a dream” Stannis continued. “He was at the Lake Styx, at the heart of my realm. They spoke and then he pushed a jagged blade into her chest.”

At this, The Mother grabbed Sansa and examined the scar on her chest, though nearly faded you could see the mark. “This is unacceptable” Olenna declared. 

“I agree” Stannis stated. 

“What did he say?” Yohn asked. 

“Sansa” Stannis looked to his wife and she recounted the dream to The Seven, sharing every word spoken and every detail she could remember. 

Stannis listened, his jaw clenched in fury as he watched her. Glancing to Sandor, he could see a similar rage in the man’s eyes and for a brief moment he wondered if Sandor held more than duty in his devotion. 

“If he can project here, he can travel here” Tywin reasoned. 

“He will” Catelyn said, her eyes glazed as she looked blankly toward the wall. “The Old Gods, they have no army that I can see…” she swayed a bit on her feet and Ned moved to her side, supporting her. “All that they have is in the blade.” 

“The Night King was their prized creation” Stannis noted. “And I burned him alive.” 

“Then we do as Sansa suggests” Davos spoke. “We let him come.” 

“As your Balance, Sansa will also have dominion over your realm” Olenna explained. “The foliage, the animals, they obey her, call to her and reach for her; your realm will protect her as surely as any steel.”

“Sandor and his men will not leave her side, not for an instant” Stannis instructed and Sandor nodded. “We will send the Army of The Stranger to the realm of men and they will not return until each and every Godswood is ash. Threats and attacks against my wife will _not_ go unanswered.”

“You speak of annihilating the Old Gods” Yohn frowned. 

“A job that should have been done over a millenia ago” Stannis glared at his good-father. “If it had been handled when the Old Gods raised the Night King, this would not be an issue.”

“How dare you---” Yohn started. 

“He’s right” Catelyn interrupted him. “Last time we only fought half a war and ten years to Gods is only a skirmish. It must end.”

“We backed off once before, we were merciful” Arya said and Gendry nodded in agreement. “Look where it got us.” 

“So we burn the trees, then what?” Olenna argued. “We march into their realm and run the Children of the Forest to ground?” 

“If I have to, I will burn the world to the ground, Olenna” Stannis stated, his anger rising. 

Sansa must have sense his temper reaching its edge and moved from Olenna’s side to take his hand, “We will overcome this” she whispered softly but her expression fell as she staggered back. 

“Sansa?”

“Fire...it’s burning” she said as the howls of the pack began to fill the night air. She raised a hand to her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “He’s burning it…”

“Burning what?” Stannis barked.

“The realm.”

At this Tywin was running, turning down the hall and throwing the glass doors open. There, beyond the forest was a plume of smoke, thin and white as it danced into the atmosphere. 

“That’s the lake” Davos announced. 

“He wants our attention” Tywin stated. 

“Well it worked, he has it” Stannis motioned to Davos who went to work, summoning the army. “Tonight he dies!”


	14. Part 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry for the delay on this, life has been very overwhelming and my focus has been off. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Sansa had never seen anything like the Army of The Stranger, not just in number but in sight. They spanned every era of human history, their weapons and armor reflecting their lives and holding them prisoner in death. 

Despite them being undead, they moved as any normal man would, large and emanating fury as they lit their torches and fell into ranks.

They marched on Davos’ order, moving through a large portal to the human realm, their mission to destroy the sight of the Old Gods and prevent them from controlling the world of men.

Sansa turned to see Stannis emerge from the house, the other men of The Seven behind him. Her husband, The Mighty Stranger, looked terrifying in his twisted metal armor, the large sword across his back. His eyes were cold, any sign of warmth having fallen to his fury at the invasion of his realm. 

“Stannis” she whispered as he approached her. 

“You stay with The Mother and Sandor,” he said. “I need you safe, you must stay with them. Promise me.”

“I will be safe,” she said. “And you, Stannis, please…” she swallowed a lump of emotion. “I need _you_ safe.”

“I am going to destroy him” Stannis promised.

“I know” she forced herself to give a small smile, leaning into kiss him. “I love you.” 

“I love you, my darling,” he held her close, his face buried in her hair for several moments before he pulled back. He looked to Sandor who stood tall behind her with his now-undead regiment from the war in Crimea and the two men shared a nod. 

With a final kiss, Stannis was mounting his black destrier, Tywin and the others following suit. Cerberus loped beside Stannis, the large hellhound already snarling, his eyes wild. Sansa watched Stannis ride to the front of his legion, each being bowing in reverence as he passed. It was easy to forget that the man that shared her bed was the most terrifying God in the pantheon of The Seven. Once upon a time, just his color had struck fear in her own heart. 

“Our realm has been invaded” Stannis said, his voice echoing. “Today we show what happens when you trespass against us!” he added and the men cheered. “Dance with the Devil and there are consequences to pay. Burn the Weirwoods, burn the Far North and bring the Old Gods to their knees! Show your Queen your devotion, and help me destroy this man who dares threaten her” their cheers grew louder. 

Stannis looked across the crowd and their eyes held for several seconds before he turned and led his men into battle. 

“Come” Olenna took Sansa’s arm and pulled her toward the house. 

Sansa pulled away, watching Stannis’ tall figure until he was no longer visible on the horizon. Only then did she allow Olenna to pull her into the house. 

They rode for what seemed like hours. While Davos had taken the bulk of the army to the realm of men, Stannis and Tywin rode toward the lake, following the last of the smoke. He could feel the tension radiating from The Warrior beside him, both of them trying to brace themselves for whatever it was that awaited them at the lake. 

At best is was Roose Bolton, alone. At worst…

He didn’t want to think about the worst, but in the event that it happened, that Roose had tricked them, Sandor would keep Sansa safe. 

As they crested the final hill, Stannis drew up short at the sight of The Children of the Forest standing in the center of the burned clearing. More emerged from the trees as the army arrived, surrounding them, all of them hissing in anger. 

“Fuck” he heard Tywin mutter beside him, his eyes quickly traveling over the Old tunes of protection The Children had burned into the earth. 

“Stranger” the closest one glared up at him. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Where’s Bolton?” Stannis asked. 

“He’s a bit preoccupied” The Child replied. 

“You’re invaders in my realm, you will be punished for this” he stated plainly. 

“We’ve been expecting such.”

Stannis looked to Tywin, then to Gendry and Arya and then as one they moved, riding with the army into the fray.

The Children, while nimble were not strong, so the trick was pinning them down to kill them. So imagine Stannis' surprise when the vines of the forest itself crept into the burned clearing, the leaves untouched by the smoldering earth. 

As Stannis swung down from his mount, a vine lashed out, wrapping around the closest Child that tried to attack him, holding it still as he cut it down. 

And so it went, the vines whipping through the air to help them. To help all of them, pinning down The Children as they tried to scramble away.

To his left, The Warrior was cutting down opponent after opponent, The Father and The Past, Ned, behind him doing the same. To his right, Gendry and Arya were working in tandem; The Smith with his great warhammer and his wife with her barbed staff, one created by The Smith especially for her. 

The sounds of screaming and bloodlust filled the air, and all Stannis could do was pray that Sansa was safe. 

Sansa hated waiting, hated standing idly by while others fought for her. Hours had passed and she felt only anxiety as they watched for the return of the army. 

Pacing to and from the large windows she paused to pour herself a glass of wine. She went to pick it up and pain rocketed through her, the glass falling to the marble with an explosion of glass. 

“Sansa” Sandor moved to catch her as she stumbled. She forced herself to swallow, clutching her head as she swayed on her feet. “Breathe, lass” he reminded her. 

“The Weirwoods” she closed her eyes tightly as smoke filled her lungs, burned her eyes. 

“Breathe” Olenna’s hands cupped her cheeks as Sandor held her up. “The earth is suffering a great death, you will feel its weight until it is done.” 

“You couldn’t fucking warn her?” Sandor’s voice hissed at The Mother.

“It was unavoidable, I saw no reason to worry her” Olenna reasoned, storming away, back to Joanna’s side.

Sansa felt panic nearly consume her and she needed air, she needed to be alone. 

Moving away from the others she strode to the solarium, Lady following close to her skirts and Sandor moving silently at her side doing his best to remain invisible. Sansa heard Sandor mutter something about Olenna, something he probably shouldn’t call The Mother but she admired his devotion. 

Upon entering the solarium, another wave of smoke burned her eyes and she felt Sandor’s hands steady her again. “I am well” she said assured him Sandor’s hands slipped from her waist. 

“For now” Sansa’s stomach twisted at the familiar voice and she turned to see Roose Bolton standing in the doorway to the solarium. Lady’s growl was deep, laced with anger. “Hello, Love” he moved into the solarium and Sandor moved in front of her. 

“Roose” she lifted her jaw in defiance. 

“You’re even more beautiful in person, my dear” he said, idly picking a rose from the bush beside him, twirling it between his fingers. He stared at it for several seconds before letting it fall to the floor, crushing it beneath his boot. “Who’s your friend?” He nodded to Sandor. 

“Sandor Clegane,” Sandor glared. 

“My sworn man and Guardian of Life” Sansa added. 

“Clegane” Roose paused. “The younger brother then?”

“Aye.”

“Your brother is quite fierce, I wonder if you’re the same” Roose replied. 

“I’m sure we’ll soon find out” Sandor stated. 

“Indeed” Roose nodded. “My quarrel is not with you, Clegane—“

“Save it” Sandor said. “I’ll not be leaving her.”

Roose laughed, the sound cold and mirthless, “Don’t try to tell me you’re in love with her too? For all this, you’d think she was the Goddess of love.” 

Sansa raised a hand and held to the back of Sandor’s tunic, watching the two men square off, “You’re not going to win, Roose.”

“But I am” he told her, his grey eyes flashing. “I already have. Soon The Stranger will be dead, a shame, really. I was hoping he would be here to watch us enjoy each other.”

“There’ll be none of that” Sandor interjected. 

“There was no getting out of this without a fight I suppose” Roose sighed. 

“Sandor” Sansa gasped as he stepped away. 

“I’ll be alright, little bird” Sandor assured her, pulling his sword free of its scabbard. 

Lady stood between her and the men as they fought, Sandor with his great sword and Roose with that sinister dagger of his. Sandor was raw strength but Roose was carefully controlled fury. Neither men wanting to yield. 

They moved around the solarium as they fought, knocking over tables, benches and plants as they went. She knew she should run, but she felt glued to the floor, locked in place. 

In the far distance she could hear the pack, Lady turned her head, hearing them too. Their howls echoing in the evening air like the specters they once were. 

Sandor parried, landing a solid kick to Roose’s chest and sending the older man to his knees. Sansa watched the vines as they reached from the trellis and grew towards Roose, the leaves trembling as they ghosted across his trousers. 

It happened so quickly, before either of them could blink, but Roose was back on his feet, yelling an inhuman scream as the dagger found home in Sandor’s chest. 

“No!!” Sansa cried out as her sworn man staggered back, the dagger staying in Roose’s hand. Unbidden she moved, holding on to his shoulders as he sank to a knee, then kneeling with him as he fell. “No…”

“You have to run, little bird” he told her. 

“No” she shook her head, tears rushing down her cheeks. She smoothed a hand over his face, brushing the hair from his eyes. 

“Run” he barked at her, choking on his own blood. 

“You can run” Roose steppes forward to tower over her. “But you will die tired, and I intend to enjoy you before that time comes.”

“I am not going to die at all, Roose Bolton,” she declared, holding Sandor across her lap as she turned to look up at the unwanted intruder. 

“Is that so” he smirked, unaware that the vines were reaching for him once more. 

“The only one who is going to die, is you” she added, reaching out to the life thrumming within the realm. 

“Oh, love” he chuckled, twirling the blade in his hand briefly before he lunged toward her. 

“Stannis” Tywin barked as the last of The Children fell. “Get back to the house!”

Stannis glanced around, seeing the others standing over the bodies, all looking exhausted and victorious. 

“Go!” Gendry yelled and Stannis burst into action. He ran back to his horse, Cerberus and the pack following as he aimed towards home and hit full gallop. 

The house was in sight, on the far horizon, when pain coursed through his heart. Sansa was in pain, she was scared, he could feel it. 

Digging his heels into the horse, he rode hard and fast, the hellhounds and wolves howling and yipping as they followed alongside him. 

Roose would have headed straight for Sansa, so hopefully Sandor was doing his job. The regiment would protect the other women, and Sandor would protect Sansa. 

He had to.


	15. Part 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winding down.  
Thank you for bearing with me!

His fury was short lived, Sansa giving leave to the realm to take their vengeance and as she watched him lunge he was halted just as suddenly.

Sansa stared defiantly up at Roose as he hung, suspended by vines at each wrist and ankle, holding him several inches off of the ground beside her. As he struggled, the vines tightened, causing him to grimace in pain. 

“What the _fuck_?” he yelled. 

“You made the mistake of attacking a Goddess in her own realm, Roose” she replied. “My world wants you here no more than I do.”

“I am going to kill you” he swore, struggling against the vines that held him. 

“No” she watched as another vine pulled the dagger from his hand, carrying it to her side before returning to the bushes.

“Then I am going to rape your corpse while your husband watches!”

“How will you manage to do such when you cannot even escape plants, Roose?”

“You bitch!” he swore. 

“I tire of your voice” she looked away as a vine wrapped around his throat, just enough to silence his cursing. Sandor was no longer breathing, his body entirely too still and she choked on a sob, “Sandor...no” she shook her head as the scream of Stannis’ horse reached her ears. 

She could have cried in relief as Stannis appeared in the doorway to the solarium, fear in his eyes and flaming sword in hand, “Sansa…”

“I am well” she whispered, turning back to Sandor. “I have to…”

“Sansa---”

“I have to try” she cut him off. “I cannot let him die.”

“I know” Stannis moved to her side and the vines shifted back, forcing Roose to face The Stranger. “Roose Bolton, at last” he said, his voice cold as ice as Lightbringer extinguished with a flick of his wrist. 

Sansa closed her eyes, holding Sandor to her as she focused on pushing as much life as she could back into his body. 

Unlike the hellhounds, there was no fracture in the golden flow of life through him, the flow was gone. The gold had faded to a mottled bronze and there was only stagnant silence. Forcing herself into his being, she pulled all of the bronze together in a desperate attempt to restore him. 

Perhaps, because of the dagger’s origin, the flow seeming unwilling to obey her, scattering father the harder she tried. 

“No, no, no” she cried, her brain racing to figure out a plan.

Stannis did not expect to find Sansa on the floor of the solarium, her dress spilling around her like blood as she held the body of Sandor Clegane across her lap. 

The vines held Roose prone, like a bug pinned to a board, arms and legs spread wide. Good, he wasn’t going to be going anywhere anytime soon. 

Stannis knew that Arya and the others would be close behind him, soon The Seven would deal with their attacker, but for now he would watch over Sansa as she tried to push life into Sandor’s body. 

Sandor’s fall, his death must have been the pain that he felt lance across his chest. The pain that Sansa felt had echoed through their bond and, while it was comforting that she was not hurt, he knew that Sandor’s death would weigh on her heart forever. 

Especially if she could not fix him. 

“No!” Sansa’s scream echoed in the solarium and when she abruptly sat up, her arm flinging wide and reaching to Roose, Stannis startled. 

“Sansa---”

“You bastard” Sansa hissed as the vines brought Roose toward her, holding him over Sandor’s prone form. 

“He’s dead,” Roose smirked. “Some goddess you are, love.” 

“No” she reached out and wrapped her slender hand around Roose’s throat. 

“What--” Roose protested and tried to spit on her face but she held his throat tightly.

Sansa closed her eyes, focusing on what he could not tell, until he saw her pulling the life force from Roose’s body and pushing it into Sandor. Life, vibrant and golden, obeyed her whim, visibly flowing through her and toward her sworn man. 

The entire solarium seemed to thrum with life, the vines holding Roose tightly as the man greyed and shrank to a shadow of himself. 

Sansa’s scream echoed in the solarium as Sandor arched violently on her lap and then he was coughing, rolling to his side as he gasped for air. He spit blood onto the floor, and his hand, shaky as it was, touched the blood soaked fabric on his chest.

Sansa moved to her feet, swaying a bit as she stood, and Stannis moved to her side to brace her as she shook the cobwebs from her mind. She was pale, paler than normal, the veins of her neck and hands visible through the translucent skin.

“Sansa” Stannis whispered, holding her tightly.

“What did you do to me?” Roose asked. 

“I gave him the immortal power The Children gave you” Sansa laughed softly. “You will live, Roose Bolton, for now.”

Arya walked through the door to the solarium, Gendry at her back as she twirled a pair of metal cuffs, a malicious smile on her face. “Did you start without me” she asked. 

“Not at all” Sansa looked up into the cold eyes of Roose Bolton. “He’s all yours.” 

Stannis felt her sway and then it was all he could do to catch her as she fainted, her body void of strength after bringing Sandor back. He lifted her into his arms as Sandor stood, and as Stannis carried her away, he felt the large man at his back, dutifully following as always. 

“Come back here!” Roose called weakly after him. 

Stannis paused, turning to face the man who sought to bring them to their knees, “You are nothing to me, Roose Bolton. A nuisance, a once problem. You are _nothing_. You threatened my wife, you threatened my home, and now you are nothing. I am choosing now to see to my wife, and I leave you in the capable hands of The Smith and Destruction herself.”

“I will not go back to the Seven Hells!”

“Do not worry yourself, Bolton. When your soul leaves your body, this time, it will scatter to the winds. You will cease to be, in any form” Stannis told him. “My gift to her, you see. Your body will fertilize the forest you sought to burn, your existence will be erased forever.” 

“I will have my revenge” Roose glared, his dedication to his cause was quite admirable. 

“I wish you good fortune in the hours to come” Stannis stated, turning away and resuming his walk to their bedrooms. 

“Easy, ol’ boy” Arya said as he left. “We’re going to have a grand time.” 

Stannis made sure to soundproof the solarium as he moved above stairs, ignoring the stares of the others as he passed the library. He carried her into their room and when he lay her on the bed, he saw Sandor standing inside the doorway, hand extended and the sinister black dagger laying on his palm. 

“Fucker's sharp” Sandor said as Stannis picked up the blade, turning it and examining it closely. “What’d she do?” he asked, glancing to the large bloodstain on the front of his waistcoat and jacket.

“Brought you back” Stannis tucked the blade into his belt. 

“How?” 

“She stole the power the Old Gods had given to Roose” Stannis said, looking to Sansa. 

“That’d explain why I feel better than I have in years” Sandor chuckled. 

“With your death, technically your life as a sworn man is done---”

Sandor glared. “I will not leave her. I am not one for vows, but I made one to her and I intend to keep it.” 

“Are you in love with her?” Stannis asked bluntly and the scarred man recoiled as if struck. 

“You’re not the first man to accuse me of such today” Sandor replied, eyes falling to the carpet. 

“A sound conclusion, then” Stannis watched him closely, enjoying seeing the man squirm under his glare. 

“You have nothing to worry about” he said softly, his eyes meeting Stannis’. “I know my place.” 

“Should you forget it...” Stannis let the threat hang in the air between them. 

“Your Grace” Sandor bowed his head. 

“Thank you, Clegane” Stannis said after a long pause. “I am not fool enough to think that you died for no reason, I know it was to keep her safe.”

“Aye.”

“Then, for that I am grateful” Stannis assured him. “Now, if you could leave me to her.”

“Of course, Your Grace” Sandor bowed and retreated to the hall, closing the door and standing vigil once more. 

Stannis turned to his wife, seeing that she was weakling mumbling on the bed, he crossed to her, sitting on the edge of the bed and smoothing her hair from her face, “My darling.” 

“Stannis” she whispered, eyes slowly opening, as if it took all the effort in the world. “What…” she looked around the room. “Roose---!”

“Is in Arya’s hands” Stannis smiled. “I am sure by now he would much rather be dead.” 

“You are unhurt?” she looked him over, pushing herself to sit up.

“I am well” he said. “The Children were waiting in the forest.” 

“The Children?” she paled further, if such were possible. 

“They are gone now, the vines seemed to be quite helpful today” he noted and she smiled. 

“I felt the Weirwoods burn” she admitted. “The smoke burned my eyes, it was awful…”

“Davos has not yet returned, but he is a singular man. His determination unmatched” Stannis explained. "I am sure by now, they are all ash." 

"Ash...I had the most wonderful dream, filled with willow trees and so much life" she smiled serenely then frowned. “And Sandor? Did it work?” 

“It did, my darling” he replied and she gave a small smile. 

“It’s over then” she sighed. 

“Almost” Stannis agreed. “Arya and Gendry will have their fun, and when he dies, he will be no more.” 

“And then peace” she sighed, laying back against the pillows. 

“Then peace” he took her hand, raising the knuckles to his lips. 

The realm of men had been thrust into chaos. 

“The Old Gods are dead!” men and women yelled in the streets. The Weirwood trees and their groves burned, the flames hotter than anything they had ever seen, glowing blue and white in the sky. 

They were all panicking, even those who did not follow the Old Gods felt terror in their hearts at the idea that the gods themselves could be killed. 

“The Old Gods are dead!”

Just when the riots had reached their peak, unrest nearly bubbling into violence, golden light filled the skies and the realm fell quiet. The gold seemed to permeate the ground, washing away the ashes and coals and in their place, twisting branches and a trunk took life, growing before them until in the place of the Weirwood trees, were ancient Weeping Willow trees. 

Around them, the earth thrummed with life, its warmth sinking into the soil and transforming the groves into oases, filled with life. 

_Life._

They stared in awe, and then one child, a small girl with blonde curls moved to the tree. 

“Sera no!” her mother cried, but the girl did not listen, reaching out to touch the vines and giggling as they seemed to tickle her palm. 

Others were encouraged by this, moving towards the great Willow trees until their panic and fear had abated. They filled the groves, young and old, rich and poor alike marvelling at the new tree. 

Peace settled into their souls as they entered the grove, a feeling lost since lost to them. No longer were they haunted by the bleeding trees with faces, now they had trees that seemed to bleed tranquility into the world.

The Old Gods had died, but there was no death here. 

Only Life.


	16. Part 16 - Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO much for bearing with me on this journey. I am going to wrap it up here, and while I am sad to see them go, I have had a LOT of fun with this AU. 
> 
> Thank you x1000!!

“I have never had hair that long” Stannis glowered, staring at the large painting in the King’s Landing Gallery. Sansa smothered her laughter in his shoulder, holding tightly to his hand. “I mean, truly, it's offensive. Gross misrepresentation.”

“Stannis” Sansa laughed, shaking her head. “It’s a painting of the The Stranger--”

“Oh which I _am_” he corrected. “And I didn’t abduct you.”

“Well, you kind of did” she teased him, looking at the larger than life painting that depicted The Stranger in full grim reaper regalia, carrying the Goddess of Life away to his realm. The woman wore all white, her red hair free and brushing the ground as she lay faint in the reapers arms. Beyond the red hair, the woman didn’t look much like Sansa, but at least her dress was pretty. 

The Stranger, however, had long black hair and a skeletal face, his blood red robe surrounding him like a living being. They had no way of knowing that, while red was his color, Stannis truly wore more black than anything. 

Even today, he wore a lovely black Hugo Boss suit that fit him perfectly. Her husband was an incredibly sexy man, one who had always been able to wear a suit better than any other. Modern fashion was much more enjoyable than the corsets and bustles of her youth, and while Stannis always looked incredible, she found she much preferred the flowing dresses and lingerie of the modern world. 

The benefits of being an immortal, she supposed, was that they could have the best of all eras.

Today they were in King’s Landing, both of them dreadfully curious about the museum's new exhibit, and enjoying a day in the realm of men. In truth, most of the paintings in the special gallery about ‘The Gods of the Seven’ were terribly incorrect, but for some reason, Sansa found them romantic all the same. 

The painting of The Warrior on his warhorse was quite lovely, and the depictions of The Maiden were fairly spot on. It seemed to be The Stranger that captivated artists and the styles ranged from impressionism to realism and even a few...abstract ones that she didn’t understand. None of them getting close to Stannis’ true form.

“I didn’t abduct you” he said softly, looking over at her. 

“I chose to go with you, Stannis” she smiled, squeezing his hand. “Though you did carry me like a sack of potatoes.” 

He scoffed, hiding his laughter. “Most beautiful sack of potatoes I have ever seen.”

“A fine complement indeed” she teased. 

“We have been married over a hundred and sixty-five years, my darling, I am fairly certain you know how much I love you” he reasoned. 

“I do” she nodded. “I have living proof of that love.”

“Several times over” he smirked, looking behind her to where the tall dark haired men stood. Though most of them were over a hundred years old by now, they looked no older than their early twenties, all of them near-replicas of their father. 

The four dark hair men were joined by two more with golden hair, twin boys born to Tywin and Joanna less than a year after Sansa’s arrival in the The Seven. 

She couldn’t help but smile at the expression of pride on her husband’s face, he adored his boys and never made a secret of it. Yohn would often joke that The Stranger was a more doting father than The Father, and Sansa would only smile in agreement. 

After Roose Bolton died, which was several days after his capture thanks to Arya’s delicate ministrations, The Seven moved forward with their lives. Sansa was finally able to enjoy lazy days abed with her husband, both of them working diligently on that family they both wanted. 

They were quite dedicated and only six-months after Joanna gave birth to Jaime and Gerold, Stannis held Sansa as Steffon arrived in the world, every inch his father’s dark, handsome looks. Sansa had cried with joy as she held him for the first time, hardly able to believe that such a miracle had come from her body. 

Over the next fifty years, Steffon was followed by Orys, Robert and Renly, all of them strong, hearty sons. Warriors in their own right, nicknamed ‘The Four Horsemen’, as they often rode together and the sight was terrifying to behold. 

Being born of Life and Death, they were all incredibly strong, powerful and, of course, handsome. Their inky black hair and bright blue-grey eyes were a stunning combination. Sansa was biased, but she thought her sons were the most beautiful to have lived. 

Hopefully, she smiled as she absently smoothed the fabric of her white bohemian dress over her the slight swell of her stomach, a daughter may soon join them and Sansa could not wait to meet her. 

“In all the paintings, none would imagine that the most realistic depiction would have father with long hair” Renly chuckled as the boys joined them. 

“I think it rather suits you, father” Orys smirked, his deep blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “Very rock-n-roll!”

“Could be worse” Gerold scoffed. “Look at my father’s golden curls? He looks like an overgrown cherub!” he pointed to a painting of The Warrior and Jaime burst into laughter, drawing a few glares. 

“I must admit, our father looks the fiercest” Robert nodded. “Well done.”

“Yes, I worked very hard at it” Stannis noted dryly and the boys laughed. 

“I think it is lunchtime” Sansa smiled. “Then we can head home.” 

“Not before I grab a pumpkin spice whatever it is that I hear so much about” Orys noted and the others nodded. “I can’t go to one of Mother’s gardens in Westeros without seeing something they call a ‘basic’ woman with one of them. I insist we try them.”

“Alright, I can agree to that” Sansa laughed as Stannis shook his head, a smile on his face. They followed the boys out of the museum, ignoring the stares they were garnering from the mortals. 

She hid her smile in Stannis’ arm as a group of girls stared, wide-eyed and jaw’s slack at the boys as they walked by. Perhaps she wasn’t so biased after all. 

“I remember the first time we sat here” Stannis smiled, nuzzling his face into Sansa’s hair as they watched the sunset on the beach. They had built a small camp-fire and spread out an old quilt to relax on the black sand.

The pack was running around them, splashing in the water and wrestling with each other. Over the years, the pack had nearly doubled in size, adding pups every few years until the forest was overrun with wolves, hellhounds and hybrids. 

The boys were back at the house with Sandor and Davos, all of them enjoying a relaxing evening with the video games and movies they so loved. It worked out well, as Stannis was able to sneak out with his wife and enjoy the peace and quiet of the shore. 

“Our first day together” Sansa smiled, relaxing against his chest. She sat between his legs, snuggled into his body where she wound up more often than not. Over a hundred years of marriage and four children had not diminished their passion and his love for her had only grown. 

For the first several years after their wedding, Sansa came into her gifts and they quickly realized that she was powerful enough to rival even him. With the establishment of the willow trees in the ash of all the Weirdwood groves, Life quickly became the Goddess of the realm; men, women and children alike celebrating her addition to the pantheon and the prosperity she brought. 

The years had not been easy, not with several great wars now in the history books and years of violence amongst men, but they had weathered the storms together and their bond was the stronger for it. 

He had refused to be parted from her each time she labored to bring their children into the world. He could feel her pain through their binding and did his best to comfort and hold her as she labored. He had waited thousands of years for a family of his own and it was all he could do to hold back tears each time she gifted him with another son. 

His sons, Gods, he smirked to himself. He had never figured himself for a handsome man, too sharp and dour in appearance, but his sons were beautiful. Tall, handsome and fierce warriors. They trained beside him and Sandor as soon as they were old enough and before he knew it, his sons were ‘The Four Horsemen’, icons of mythology and harbingers of death, pestilence, famine and war. 

They worked hard but it never damped their bright spirits, something they inherited from their mother, he suspected. 

He hoped, as Sansa did, that their next child would be a daughter. One that could share her mother’s gift of life and beauty. 

“It is hard to believe, looking back, that I was so afraid” Sansa admitted, looking over her shoulder at him. 

“You had been taught nothing else” he reasoned. “I could not blame you.”

“Taught by men who are naught but dust now,” she said. “And we live on.”

“More powerful than ever” he kissed her temple. 

“Cranky old parents” she laughed. “I thought Orys was going to throw up when he drank that latte.” 

“It was terrible” Stannis smirked. “I don’t see the mortal need to photograph one’s beverages when they taste that terrible.” 

“At least the boys tried them” she smiled. “They’re adventurous, if nothing else.” 

“I will never understand their fascination with the realm of men,” Stannis admitted. 

“It keeps things interesting” Sansa said, turning to kiss him. “Now, I think we should be taking advantage of the fact that they are thoroughly busy with Davos and Sandor.” 

“Oh?” Stannis smirked. 

“Absolutely” she turned on his lap, straddling his thighs as her arms went around his neck. For now her stomach was still small enough to still allow her to sit comfortably on his lap, a fact that he wasn’t going to let go to waste. 

“I love you” he whispered. 

“I love you” she lowered her lips to his. He fell into her kiss, losing himself to the pleasure of making love to his wife. 

Tywin watched as Jaime paced, his mind out of control in the family library. 

“Jaime---”

“I can’t” he gasped. “I can’t breathe.”

“If you’re talking, you’re breathing” Tywin reasoned, watching his first born son pace frantically. 

“I can’t” Jaime grabbed his chest, pausing to lean against the bookcase. 

Tywin moved to his son’s side, touching his shoulder. Jaime’s behavior had been anxious all day, frantic and on edge, but it was nearly sunset and he was worse than he had been all day.

He remembered clearly the day that Jaime and Gerold came into the world, Joanna fighting harder than any warrior to date to bear their sons. Beautiful, perfect sons who inherited the golden look and his charm. Their birth had taken a toll on her, but Sansa and Olenna had been at Joanna’s side, ensuring that she was safe and healthy for the birth.

As Jaime and Gerold grew, they were strong, handsome men that Joanna doted on. He had nearly given up hope of having children with Joanna, their disappointment fading into the background until Sansa had come along and promised Life where none had grown before. She had kept her promise, helping them to create two beautiful boys. 

They were strong, smart and cunning, he had never worried about them before today. But Jaime’s behavior was unprecedented, manic and unnerving. 

“I feel” Jaime was clutching the fabric of his t-shirt over his chest. “It’s racing…”

Tywin frowned, reaching out to feel his son’s heartbeat against his hand. Jaime was right, it was frantic...too frantic...almost like….

Tywin paled, stumbling back, “JO!”

“What?” Joanna called, running down the hall. 

“Sansa!”

“What?”

“Is it her time?”

“Possibly” Joanna paused, looking to Jaime. “No…”

“I will be back” Tywin told his wife as he opened a portal to the realm of The Stranger and helped Jaime through. 

Stannis’ house was brimming with activity, servants and men running about. The four boys were gathered in the great room, huddled around the fire, each with a glass of whisky in hand. 

“Uncle Ty” Steffon greeted, looking to Jaime. “Is all well?”

“Your mother” Tywin prompted. 

“Has given birth to a daughter” Steffon replied. 

“Daughter” Tywin looked to Jaime who had relaxed, if slightly, since he stepped foot in the realm. 

“Cassana” Orys added. 

“Where?” Tywin asked. 

“Their chambers---”

Tywin did not wait to hear the rest, leading a stumbling Jaime up the stairs and to the master’s chambers. Nodding to Sandor who stood at the door, Tywin moved inside and Jaime followed, both finding Sansa sitting up in bed, holding a small bundle in her arms as Stannis stood guard.

“Tywin” Stannis watched them, his eyes cold and protective. 

“When did Sansa go into labor” Tywin asked. 

“This morning, she was born but moments ago---” 

Jaime moved forward, pitching onto the foot of the bed and reaching out to touch the small bundle in Sansa’s arms, “I have to protect her” he mumbled as his body finally relaxed.

“You’re serious” Stannis looked to Tywin and the two men exchanged glances before looking to Jaime. 

“For every Goddess, there is a God to balance her” Olenna smiled from the side of the room where she was washing her hands. 

“Jaime and….Cassana?” Sansa looked to her mother. 

“Vanity and Humility” Olenna smiled, moving to her daughter’s side. “Cassana will forever be safe and protected.” 

Sansa looked to where Jaime was sprawled across the foot of the bed at her feet, his form weak and unmoving and her expression softened, “He felt her distress?”

“He has been a mess all day” Tywin replied. 

“The poor thing” Sansa frowned. 

“Your son” Stannis glared. “And my daughter?”

“It would seem so” Tywin replied. 

Stannis clenched his jaw, “She has been in the world for less than an hour and already suitors are falling at her feet.” 

“She will be a beauty” Sansa marvelled, stroking her daughter's cheek. “Unparalleled.” 

“Well” Stannis cleared his throat. “He will just have to prove himself worthy of her.” 

Sansa smirked up at her husband as Tywin scoffed, “He is the first born of The Warrior--”

“And she is my daughter” Stannis reasoned. 

“Gentlemen” Sansa interjected, her calm tone easing them both. “We will just have to take this one step at a time. You are both bonded, you know how it feels…”

“But she is a baby!” Stannis reasoned. 

“I know” Sansa reached out to take her husband’s hand. “But she won’t be forever, and who better to love and protect her than her balance.” 

Stannis grimaced, “She is too young.” 

“I know, my love” Sansa assured him, looking to Jaime. “But I will not keep him from her.” 

Stannis sighed, looking to the exhausted young God who had collapsed across the end of the bed. “Alright.” 

“Alright” Tywin agreed. “If I could leave him here a while, I will speak with Jo and Gerold.”

“Of course” Sansa gave a nod and Tywin excused himself, glancing to Jaime’s limp form one last time before he opened a portal back home. 

“This means she will always be safe” Sansa explained as Stannis glared at the form of the blonde man across the end of the bed. “No matter what, she will be safe and loved.”

“I suppose” Stannis grumbled as she took her husband’s hand, giving him a reassuring smile. 

It had been a long day for all of them, Cassana’s arrival surprising them all. Her son’s had already come to marvel at the beautiful sister they now had and the arrival of Tywin and Jaime had definitely been a surprise. 

Stannis, of course, would have every protective instinct firing on full-blast, and it only made her adore him all the more. Sons were easy, relatively, as they would be warriors who could protect themselves, but a daughter… a daughter was new territory. Especially when, at hours old, she had her balance falling at the foot of the bed. 

The Mother had clearly known, her smile smug as she watched Jaime stumble toward Cassana. Vanity and Humility, another perfectly balanced combination that would keep The Seven strong. Jaime was beautiful, golden and strong, and his vanity would be tempered by Cassana, a thought that had Sansa smiling. 

Through it all, her daughter would be safe and protected.

“She is beautiful” Sansa marvelled, looking to where Cassana was nursing happily. 

“She is” Stannis agreed, reaching out to touch the dusting of inky black hair on her head before kissing Sansa’s temple. “I love you, my darling.” 

“And I you,” she replied without hesitation. “Together, we can tackle the future together.” 

“Together” he agreed, glancing to Jaime’s unmoving form. “But if he steps out of line, I will maim him.”

“Stannis!”

“What?” he laughed softly, nuzzling her cheek.

“You can’t maim him.”

“I can--”

“No” she laughed.

“Fine” Stannis sighed. “Bruises only.”

“Stannis” she chided, turning to kiss him softly. 

“I promise” he told her and she relaxed against his side, soaking in his strength. 

She had once been afraid of The Stranger, running from him and praying for rescue, but now, she could not imagine her life without him. Without his strength, without his love. 

Jaime shifted on the foot of the mattress and Stannis glowered, causing her to smile widen; her fierce, protective husband, ready to defend them against any threat. She turned her face into his chest, breathing in his scent as his arms went around her and Cassana. 

This, she smiled against his shirt, was elysium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picsets are viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187455491311/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/), [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187499669246/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/),[HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187569691021/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/) ,[HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187609728006/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/) and [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/187746976441/the-strangers-bride-au-victoriangods/)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for pic sets and more shenanigans!  
@the-red-wulf or https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/


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